C^-iv^ 


.-2^ 


i 


MOTHER 


By 

MAXIM    GORKY 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
D.   APPLETON   AND    COMPANY 

1920 


Copyright,  190C,  liX>7,  by 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


7:r:;'L5fr:. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Pii  ''  I  { 


PART    I 


4S3027 


t 


CHAPTER   I 

'VERY  day  the  factory  whistle  bellowed 
forth  its  shrill,  roaring,  trembling  noises 
into  the  smoke-begrimed  and  greasy  atmos- 
phere of  the  workingmen's  suburb ;  and 
obedient  to  the  summons  of  the  power  of 
steam,  people  poured  out  of  little  gray  houses  into  the 
street.  With  somber  faces  they  hastened  forward  like 
frightened  roaches,  their  muscles  stiff  from  insufficient 
sleep.  In  the  chill  morning  twilight  they  walked 
through  the  narrow,  unpaved  street  to  the  tall  stone 
cage  that  waited  for  them  with  cold  assurance,  illumin- 
ing their  muddy  road  with  scores  of  greasy,  yellow, 
square  eyes.  The  mud  plashed  under  their  feet  as  if  in 
mocking  commiseration.  Hoarse  exclamations  of  sleepy 
voices  were  heard;  irritated,  peevish,  abusive  language 
rent  the  air  with  malice;  and,  to  welcome  the  people, 
deafening  sounds  floated  about — the  heavy  whir  of  ma- 
chinery, the  dissatisfied  snort  of  steam.  Stern  and  som- 
ber, the  black  chimneys  stretched  their  huge,  thick  sticks 
high  above  the  village. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  sun  was  setting,  and  red 
rays  languidly  glimmered  upon  the  windows  of  the 
houses,  the  factory  ejected  its  people  like  burned-out 
ashes,  and  again  they  walked  through  the  streets,  with 
black,  smoke-covered  faces,  radiating  the  sticky  odor  of 
machine  oil,  and  showing  the  gleam  of  hungry  teeth. 
But  now  there  was  animation  in  their  voices^  and  even 

3 


MOTHER 

gladness. 

day.     Supper  awaited  them  at  home,  and  respite. 

The  day  was  swallowed  up  by  the  factory;  the  ma- 
chine sucked  out  of  men's  muscles  as  much  vigor  as  it 
needed.  The  day  was  blotted  out  from  life,  not  a  trace 
of  it  left.  Man  made  another  imperceptible  step  toward 
his  grave ;  but  he  saw  close  before  him  the  delights  of 
rest,  the  joys  of  the  odorous  tavern,  and  he  was  satis- 
fied. 

On  holidays  the  workers  slept  until  about  ten  o'clock. 
Then  the  staid  and  married  people  dressed  themselves  in 
their  best  clothes  and,  after  duly  scolding  the  young 
folks  for  their  indifference  to  church,  went  to  hear  mass. 
When  they  returned  from  church,  they  ate  pirogs,  the 
Russian  national  pastry,  and  again  lay  down  to  sleep  until 
the  evening.  The  accumulated  exhaustion  of  years  had 
robbed  them  of  their  appetites,  and  to  be  able  to  eat  they 
drank,  long  and  deep,  goading  on  their  feeble  stomachs 
with  the  biting,  burning  lash  of  vodka. 

In  the  evening  they  amused  themselves  idly  on  the 
street;  and  those  who  had  overshoes  put  them  on,  even 
if  it  was  dry,  and  those  who  had  umbrellas  carried  them, 
even  if  the  sun  was  shining.  Not  everybody  has  over- 
shoes and  an  umbrella,  but  everybody  desires  in  some 
way,  however  small,  to  appear  more  important  than  his 
neighbor. 

Meeting  one  another  they  spoke  about  the  factory 
and  the  machines,  had  their  fling  against  their  foreman, 
conversed  and  thought  only  of  matters  closely  and  mani- 
festly connected  with  their  work.  Only  rarely,  and  then 
but  faintly,  did  solitary  sparks  of  impotent  thought  glim- 
mer in  the  wearisome  monotony  of  their  talk.  Returning 
home  they  quarreled  with  their  wives,  and  often  beat 
them,  unsparing  of  their  fists.     The  young  people  sat  in 

4 


MOTHER 

the  taverns,  or  enjoyed  evening  parties  at  one  another's 
houses,  played  the  accordion,  sang  vulgar  songs  devoid 
of  beauty,  danced,  talked  ribaldry,  and   drank. 

Exhausted  with  toil,  men  drank  swiftly,  and  in  every 
heart  there  awoke  and  grew  an  incomprehensible,  sickly 
irritation.  It  demanded  an  outlet.  Clutching  tena- 
ciously at  every  pretext  for  unloading  themselves  of  this 
disquieting  sensation,  they  fell  on  one  another  for  mere 
trifles,  with  the  spiteful  ferocity  of  beasts,  breaking  into 
bloody  quarrels  which  sometimes  ended  in  serious  injury 
and  on  rare  occasions  even  in  murder. 

This  lurking  malice  steadily  increased,  inveterate  as 
the  incurable  weariness  in  their  muscles.  They  were  born 
with  this  disease  of  the  soul  inherited  from  their  fathers. 
Like  a  black  shadow  it  accompanied  them  to  their 
graves,  spurring  on  their  lives  to  crime,  hideous  in  its 
aimless  cruelty  and  brutality. 

On  holidays  the  young  people  came  home  late  at 
night,  dirty  and  dusty,  their  clothes  torn,  their  faces 
bruised,  boasting  maliciously  of  the  blows  they  had  struck 
their  companions,  or  the  insults  they  had  inflicted  upon 
them ;  enraged  or  in  tears  over  the  indignities  they  them- 
selves had  suffered ;  drunken  and  piteous,  unfortunate 
and  repulsive.  Sometimes  the  boys  would  be  brought 
home  by  the  mother  or  the  father,  who  had  picked  them 
up  in  the  street  or  in  a  tavern,  drunk  to  insensibility. 
The  parents  scolded  and  swore  at  them  peevishly,  and 
beat  their  spongelike  bodies,  soaked  with  liquor;  then 
more  or  less  systematically  put  them  to  bed,  in  order  to 
rouse  them  to  work  early  next  morning,  when  the  bel- 
low of  the  whistle  should  sullenly  course  through  the 
air. 

They  scolded  and  beat  the  children  soundly,  not- 
withstanding   the    fact    that    drunkenness    and    brawls 


MOTHER 

among  young  folk  appeared  perfectly  legitimate  to  the 
old  people.  When  they  were  young  they,  too,  had  drunk 
and  fought ;  they,  too,  had  been  beaten  by  their  mothers 
and  fathers.  Life  had  always  been  like  that.  It  flowed 
on  monotonously  and  slowly  somewhere  down  the 
muddy,  turbid  stream,  year  after  year;  and  it  was  all 
bound  up  in  strong  ancient  customs  and  habits  that  led 
them  to  do  one  and  the  same  thing  day  in  and  day  out. 
None  of  them,  it  seemed,  had  either  the  time  or  the 
desire  to  attempt  to  change  this  state  of  life. 

Once  in  a  long  while  a  stranger  would  come  to  the 
village.  At  first  he  attracted  attention  merely  because 
he  was  a  stranger.  Then  he  aroused  a  light,  superficial 
interest  by  the  stories  of  the  places  where  he  had 
worked.  Afterwards  the  novelty  wore  oflf,  the  people 
got  used  to  him,  and  he  remained  unnoticed.  From  his 
stories  it  was  clear  that  the  life  of  the  workingmen  was 
the  same  everywhere.  And  if  so,  then  what  was  there 
to  talk  about? 

Occasionally,  however,  some  stranger  spoke  curious 
things  never  heard  of  in  the  suburb.  The  men  did  not 
argue  with  him,  but  listened  to  his  odd  speeches  with 
incredulity.  His  words  aroused  blind  irritation  in  some, 
perplexed  alarm  in  others,  while  still  others  were  dis- 
turbed by  a  feeble,  shadowy  glimmer  of  the  hope  of  some- 
thing, they  knew  not  what.  And  they  all  began  to  drink 
more  in  order  to  drive  away  the  unnecessary,  meddle- 
some excitement. 

Noticing  in  the  stranger  something  unusual,  the  vil- 
lagers cherished  it  long  against  him  and  treated  the  man 
who  was  not  like  them  with  unaccountable  apprehension. 
It  was  as  if  they  feared  he  would  throw  something 
into  their  life  which  would  disturb  its  straight,  dismal 
course.     Sad  and  difficult,  it  was  yet  even  in  its  tenor. 

6 


MOTHER 

People  were  accustomed  to  the  fact  that  life  always  op- 
pressed them  with  the  same  power.  Unhopeful  of  any 
turn  for  the  better,  they  regarded  every  change  as  capa- 
ble only  of  increasing  their  burden. 

And  the  workingmen  of  the  suburb  tacitly  avoided 
people  who  spoke  unusual  things  to  them.  Then  these 
people  disappeared  again,  going  off  elsewhere,  and  those 
who  remained  in  the  factory  lived  apart,  if  they  could  not 
blend  and  make  one  whole  with  the  monotonous  mass 
in  the  village. 

Living  a  life  like  that  for  some  fifty  years,  a  workman 
died. 

Thus  also  lived  Michael  Vlasov,  a  gloomy,  sullen 
man,  with  little  eyes  which  looked  at  everybody  from 
under  his  thick  eyebrows  suspiciously,  with  a  mistrust- 
ful, evil  smile.  He  was  the  best  locksmith  in  the  fac- 
tory, and  the  strongest  man  in  the  village.  But  he  was 
insolent  and  disrespectful  toward  the  foreman  and  the 
superintendent,  and  therefore  earned  little;  every  holi- 
day he  beat  somebody,  and  everyone  disliked  and  feared 
him. 

More  than  one  attempt  was  made  to  beat  him  in 
turn,  but  without  success.  When  Vlasov  found  himself 
threatened  with  attack,  he  caught  a  stone  in  his  hand, 
or  a  piece  of  wood  or  iron,  and  spreading  out  his  legs 
stood  waiting  in  silence  for  the  enemy.  His  face  over- 
grown with  a  dark  beard  from  his  eyes  to  his  neck,  and 
his  hands  thickly  covered  with  woolly  hair,  inspired 
everybody  with  fear.  People  were  especially  afraid  of 
his  eyes.  Small  and  keen,  they  seemed  to  bore  through 
a  man  like  steel  gimlets,  and  everyone  who  met  their 
gaze  felt  he  was  confronting  a  beast,  a  savage  power,  in- 
accessible to  fear,  ready  to  strike  unmercifully. 

7 


MOTHER 

"  Well,  pack  off,  dirty  vermin !  "  he  said  gruffly.  His 
coarse,  yellow  teeth  glistened  terribly  through  the  thick 
hair  on  his  face.  The  men  walked  off  uttering  coward 
abuse. 

"  Dirty  vermin !  "  he  snapped  at  them,  and  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  a  smile  sharp  as  an  awl.  Then  holding 
his  head  in  an  attitude  of  direct  challenge,  with  a  short, 
thick  pipe  between  his  teeth,  he  w^alked  behind  them,  and 
now  and  then  called  out:  "  Well,  who  wants  death?  " 

No  one  wanted  it. 

He  spoke  little,  and  "  dirty  vermin  "  was  his  favorite 
expression.  It  was  the  name  he  used  for  the  authorities 
of  the  factory,  and  the  police,  and  it  was  the  epithet 
with  which  he  addressed  his  wife:  **  Look,  you  dirty 
vermin,  don't  you  see  my  clothes  are  torn  ?  *' 

When  Pavel,  his  son,  was  a  boy  of  fourteen,  Vlasov 
was  one  day  seized  with  the  desire  to  pull  him  by  the 
hair  once  more.  But  Pavel  grasped  a  heavy  hammer,  and 
said  curtly: 

"  Don't  touch  me !  " 

"  What !  "  demanded  his  father,  bending  over  the 
tall,  slender  figure  of  his  son  like  a  shadow  on  a  birch 
tree. 

"  Enough !  "  said  Pavel.  "  I  am  not  going  to  give 
myself  up  any  more." 

And  opening  his  dark  eyes  wide,  he  waved  the  ham- 
mer in  the  air. 

His  father  looked  at  him,  folded  his  shaggy  hands 
on  his  back,  and,  smiling,  said: 

"All  right."  Then  he  drew  a  heavy  breath  and 
added :  "  Ah,  you  dirty  vermin !  " 

Shortly  after  this  he  said  to  his  wife : 

"  Don't  ask  me  for  money  any  more.  Pasha  will 
feed  you  now." 

8 


MOTHMR 

"And  you  will  drink  up  everything?"  she  ventured 
to  ask. 

"  None  of  your  business,  dirty  vermin !  "  From  that 
time,  for  three  years,  until  his  death,  he  did  not  notice, 
and  did  not  speak  to  his  son. 

Vlasov  had  a  dog  as  big  and  shaggy  as  himself.  She 
accompanied  him  to  the  factory  every  morning,  and  every 
evening  she  waited  for  him  at  the  gate.  On  holidays 
Vlasov  started  off  on  his  round  of  the  taverns.  He 
walked  in  silence,  and  stared  into  people's  faces  as  if 
looking  for  somebody.  His  dog  trotted  after  him  the 
whole  day  long.  Returning  home  drunk  he  sat  down  to 
supper,  and  gave  his  dog  to  eat  from  his  own  bowl. 
He  never  beat  her,  never  scolded,  and  never  petted  her. 
After  supper  he  flung  the  dishes  from  the  table — if  his 
wife  was  not  quick  enough  to  remove  them  in  time — 
put  a  bottle  of  whisky  before  him,  and  leaning  his  back 
against  the  wall,  began  in  a  hoarse  voice  that  spread  an- 
guish about  him  to  bawl  a  song,  his  mouth  wide  open 
and  his  eyes  closed.  The  doleful  sounds  got  entangled 
in  his  mustache,  knocking  off  the  crumbs  of  bread.  He 
smoothed  down  the  hair  of  his  beard  and  mustache  with 
his  thick  fingers  and  sang — sang  unintelligible  words, 
long  drawn  out.  The  melody  recalled  the  wintry  howl 
of  wolves.  He  sang  as  long  as  there  was  whisky  in 
the  bottle,  then  he  dropped  on  his  side  upon  the  bench, 
or  let  his  head  sink  on  the  table,  and  slept  in  this 
way  until  the  whistle  began  to  blow.  The  dog  lay  at 
his  side. 

When  he  died,  he  died  hard.  For  five  days,  turned 
all  black,  he  rolled  in  his  bed,  gnashing  his  teeth,  his 
eyes  tightly  closed.  Sometimes  he  would  say  to  his  wife : 
"  Give  me  arsenic.     Poison  me." 

She  called  a  physician.  He  ordered  hot  poultices, 
9 


MOTHER 

but  said  an  operation  was  necessary  and  the  patient  must 
be  taken  at  once  to  the  hospital. 

*'  Go  to  the  devil !  I  will  die  by  myself,  dirty  ver- 
min !  "  said  Michael. 

And  when  the  physician  had  left,  and  his  wife  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  began  to  insist  on  an  operation,  he 
clenched  his  fists  and  announced  threateningly : 

"  Don't  you  dare !  It  will  be  worse  for  you  if  I  get 
well." 

He  died  in  the  morning  at  the  moment  when  the 
whistle  called  the  men  to  work.  He  lay  in  the  coffin 
with  open  mouth,  his  eyebrows  knit  as  if  in  a  scowl. 
He  was  buried  by  his  wife,  his  son,  the  dog,  an  old  drunk- 
ard and  thief,  Daniel  Vyesovshchikov,  a  discharged 
smelter,  and  a  few  beggars  of  the  suburb.  His  wife  wept 
a  little  and  quietly;  Pavel  did  not  weep  at  all.  The  vil- 
lagers who  met  the  funeral  in  the  street  stopped,  crossed 
themselves,  and  said  to  one  another :  ''  Guess  Pelagueya 
is  glad  he  died !  "  And  some  corrected :  "  He  didn't  die ; 
he  rotted  away  like  a  beast." 

When  the  body  was  put  in  the  ground,  the  people 
went  away,  but  the  dog  remained  for  a  long  time,  and 
sitting  silently  on  the  fresh  soil,  she  sniffed  at  the  grave. 


CHAPTER   II 

WO  weeks  after  the  death  of  his  father,  on 
a  Sunday,  Pavel  came  home  very  drunk. 
Staggering  he  crav^^led  to  a  corner  in  the 
front  of  the  room,  and  striking  his  fist  on 
the  table  as  his  father  used  to  do,  shouted 
to  his  mother : 
'' Supper  I" 

The  mother  v^alked  up  to  him,  sat  down  at  his  side, 
and  with  her  arm  around  her  son,  drew  his  head  upon 
her  breast.    With  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  he  pushed  her 
away  and  shouted: 
"Mother,  quick!" 

"  You  foolish  boy !  "  said  the  mother  in  a  sad  and 
affectionate  voice,  trying  to  overcome  his  resistance. 

"  I  am  going  to  smoke,  too.  Give  me  father's  pipe," 
mumbled  Pavel  indistinctly,  wagging  his  tongue  heavily. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  been  drunk.  The  alcohol 
weakened  his  body,  but  it  did  not  quench  his  conscious- 
ness, and  the  question  knocked  at  his  brain :  "  Drunk  ? 
Drunk?" 

The  fondling  of  his  mother  troubled  him,  and  he  was 
touched  by  the  sadness  in  her  eyes.  He  wanted  to  weep, 
and  in  order  to  overcome  this  desire  he  endeavored  to 
appear  more  drunk  than  he  actually  was. 

The  mother  stroked  his  tangled  hair,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"  Why  did  you  do  it  ?    You  oughtn't  to  have  done  it." 
2  II 


MOTHER 

He  began  to  feel  sick,  and  after  a  violent  attack  of 
nausea  the  mother  put  him  to  bed,  and  laid  a  wet  towel 
over  his  pale  forehead.  He  sobered  a  little,  but  under 
and  around  him  everything  seemed  to  be  rocking;  his 
eyelids  grew  heavy ;  he  felt  a  bad,  sour  taste  in  his  mouth ; 
he  looked  through  his  eyelashes  on  his  mother's  large 
face,  and  thought  disjointedly : 

"  It  seems  it's  too  early  for  me.  Others  drink  and 
nothing  happens — and  I  feel  sick." 

Somewhere  from  a  distance  came  the  mother's  soft 
voice : 

"  What  sort  of  a  breadgiver  will  you  be  to  me  if  you 
begin  to  drink?  " 

He  shut  his  eyes  tightly  and  answered : 

**  Everybody  drinks." 

The  mother  sighed.  He  was  right.  She  herself  knew 
that  besides  the  tavern  there  was  no  place  where  people 
could  enjoy  themselves;  besides  the  taste  of  whisky 
there  was  no  other  gratification.    Nevertheless  she  said: 

"  But  don't  you  drink.  Your  father  drank  for  both 
of  you.  And  he  made  enough  misery  for  me.  Take 
pity  on  your  mother,  then,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Listening  to  the  soft,  pitiful  words  of  his  mother, 
Pavel  remembered  that  in  his  father's  lifetime  she  had 
remained  unnoticed  in  the  house.  She  had  been  silent 
and  had  always  lived  in  anxious  expectation  of  blows. 
Desiring  to  avoid  his  father,  he  had  been  home  very  little 
of  late;  he  had  become  almost  unaccustomed  to  his 
mother,  and  now,  as  he  gradually  sobered  up,  he  looked 
at  her  fixedly. 

She  was  tall  and  somewhat  stooping.  Her  heavy 
body,  broken  down  with  long  years  of  toil  and  the  beat- 
ings of  her  husband,  moved  about  noiselessly  and  in- 
clined to  one  side,  as  if  she  were  in  constant  fear  of 

12 


MOTHER 

knocking  up  against  something.  Her  broad  oval  face, 
wrinkled  and  puffy,  was  lighted  up  with  a  pair  of  dark 
eyes,  troubled  and  melancholy  as  those  of  most  of  the 
women  in  the  village.  On  her  right  eyebrow  was  a  deep 
scar,  which  turned  the  eyebrow  upward  a  little ;  her  right 
ear,  too,  seemed  to  be  higher  than  the  left,  which  gave 
her  face  the  appearance  of  alarmed  listening.  Gray 
locks  glistened  in  her  thick,  dark  hair,  like  the  imprints  of 
heavy  blows.  Altogether  she  was  soft,  melancholy,  and 
submissive. 

Tears  slowly  trickled  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Wait,  don't  cry ! "  begged  the  son  in  a  soft  voice. 
"  Give  me  a  drink." 

She  rose  and  said: 

*'  I'll  give  you  some  ice  water." 

But  when  she  returned  he  was  already  asleep.  She 
stood  over  him  for  a  minute,  trying  to  breathe  lightly. 
The  cup  in  her  hand  trembled,  and  the  ice  knocked 
against  the  tin.  Then,  setting  the  cup  on  the  table,  she 
knelt  before  the  sacred  image  upon  the  wall,  and  began 
to  pray  in  silence.  The  sounds  of  dark,  drunken  life 
beat  against  the  window  panes;  an  accordion  screeched 
in  the  misty  darkness  of  the  autumn  night;  some  one 
sang  a  loud  song;  some  one  was  swearing  with  ugly, 
vile  oaths,  and  the  excited  sounds  of  women's  irritated, 
weary  voices  cut  the  air. 

Life  in  the  little  house  of  the  Vlasovs  flowed  on 
monotonously,  but  more  calmly  and  undisturbed  than  be- 
fore, and  somewhat  different  from  everywhere  else  in 
the  suburb. 

The  house  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  village,  by  a  low 
but  steep  and  muddy  declivity.  A  third  of  the  house  was 
occupied  by  the  kitchen  and  a  small  room  used  for  the 

13 


MOTHER 

mother's  bedroom,  separated  from  the  kitchen  by  a  parti- 
tion reaching  partially  to  the  ceiling.  The  other  two 
thirds  formed  a  square  room  with  two  windows.  In  one 
corner  stood  Pavel's  bed,  in  front  a  table  and  two 
benches.  Some  chairs,  a  washstand  with  a  small  look- 
ing-glass over  it,  a  trunk  with  clothes,  a  clock  on  the 
wall,  and  two  ikons — this  was  the  entire  outfit  of  the 
household. 

Pavel  tried  to  live  like  the  rest.    He  did  all  a  young 
lad  should  do — bought  himself  an  accordion,  a  shirt  with 
a  starched  front,  a  loud-colored  necktie,  overshoes,  and  a 
cane.    Externally  he  became  like  all  the  other  youths  of 
his  age.     He  went  to  evening  parties   and  learned  to 
dance  a  quadrille  and  a  polka.     On  holidays  he  came 
home  drunk,  and  always  suffered  greatly  from  the  effects 
of  liquor.     In  the  morning  his  head  ached,  he  was  tor- 
mented by  heartburns,  his  face  was  pale  and  dull. 
Once  his  mother  asked  him: 
"  Well,  did  you  have  a  good  time  yesterday  ?  " 
He  answered  dismally  and  with  irritation: 
"  Oh,  dreary  as  a  graveyard !     Everybody  is  like  a 
machine.     I'd  better  go  fishing  or  buy  myself  a  gun." 

He  worked  faithfully,  without  intermission  and  with- 
out incurring  fines.  He  was  taciturn,  and  his  eyes,  blue 
and  large  like  his  mother's,  looked  out  discontentedly. 
He  did  not  buy  a  gun,  nor  did  he  go  a-fishing;  but  he 
gradually  began  to  avoid  the  beaten  path  trodden  by  all. 
His  attendance  at  parties  became  less  and  less  frequent, 
and  although  he  went  out  somewhere  on  holidays,  he 
always  returned  home  sober.  His  mother  watched  him 
unobtrusively  but  closely,  and  saw  the  tawny  face  of  her 
son  grow  keener  and  keener,  and  his  eyes  more  serious. 
She  noticed  that  his  lips  were  compressed  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  imparting  an  odd  expression  of  austerity  to  his 

14 


MOTHER 

face.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  always  angry  at  some- 
thing, or  as  if  a  canker  gnawed  at  him.  At  first  his 
friends  came  to  visit  him,  but  never  finding  him  at  home, 
they  remained  away. 

The  mother  was  glad  to  see  her  son  turning  out  dif- 
ferent from  all  the  other  factory  youth ;  but  a  feeling  of 
anxiety  and  apprehension  stirred  in  her  heart  when  she 
observed  that  he  was  obstinately  and  resolutely  directing 
his  life  into  obscure  paths  leading  away  from  the  routine 
existence  about  him — that  he  turned  in  his  career  neither 
to  the  right  nor  the  left. 

He  began  to  bring  books  home  with  him.  At  first 
he  tried  to  escape  attention  when  reading  them ;  and 
after  he  had  finished  a  book,  he  hid  it.  Sometimes  he 
copied  a  passage  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  hid  that  also. 

"  Aren't  you  well,  Pavlusha  ? "  the  mother  asked 
once. 

"  I'm  all  right/'  he  answered. 

"  You  are  so  thin,"  said  the  mother  with  a  sigh. 

He  was  silent. 

They  spoke  infrequently,  and  saw  each  other  very 
little.  In  the  morning  he  drank  tea  in  silence,  and  went 
off  to  work ;  at  noon  he  came  for  dinner,  a  few  insignifi- 
cant remarks  were  passed  at  the  table,  and  he  again 
disappeared  until  the  evening.  And  in  the  evening,  the 
day's  work  ended,  he  washed  himself,  took  supper,  and 
then  fell  to  his  books,  and  read  for  a  long  time.  On 
holidays  he  left  home  in  the  morning  and  returned  late 
at  night.  She  knew  he  went  to  the  city  and  the  theater ; 
but  nobody  from  the  city  ever  came  to  visit  him.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  with  the  lapse  of  time  her  son  spoke 
less  and  less;  and  at  the  same  time  she  noticed  that 
occasionally  and  with  increasing  frequency  he  used  new 
words  unintelligible  to  her,  and  that  the  coarse,  rude, 

15 


MOTITER 

and  hard  expressions  dropped  from  his  speech.  In  his 
general  conduct,  also,  certain  traits  appeared,  forcing 
themselves  upon  his  mother's  attention.  He  ceased  to 
affect  the  dandy,  but  became  more  attentive  to  the 
cleanliness  of  his  body  and  dress,  and  moved  more 
freely  and  alertly.  The  increasing  softness  and  sim- 
plicity of  his  manner  aroused  a  disquieting  interest  in 
his  mother. 

Once  he  brought  a  picture  and  hung  it  on  the  wall. 
It  represented  three  persons  walking  lightly  and  boldly, 
and  conversing. 

**  This  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  going  to 
Emmaus,"  explained  Pavel. 

The  mother  liked  the  picture,  but  she  thought: 

"  You  respect  Christ,  and  yet  you  do  not  go  to 
church." 

Then  more  pictures  appeared  on  the  walls,  and  the 
number  of  books  increased  on  the  shelves  neatly  made 
for  him  by  one  of  his  carpenter  friends.  The  room  be- 
gan to  look  like  a  home. 

He  addressed  his  mother  with  the  reverential  plural 
"  you,"  and  called  her  "  mother  "  instead  of  "  mamma." 
But  sometimes  he  turned  to  her  suddenly,  and  briefly  used 
the  simple  and  familiar  form  of  the  singular :  **  Mamma, 
please  be  not  thou  disturbed  if  I  come  home  late  to- 
night." 

This  pleased  her;  in  such  words  she  felt  something 
serious  and  strong. 

But  her  uneasiness  increased.  Since  her  son's 
strangeness  was  not  clarified  with  time,  her  heart  became 
more  and  more  sharply  troubled  with  a  foreboding  of 
something  unusual.  Every  now  and  then  she  felt  a  cer- 
tain dissatisfaction  with  him,  and  she  thought :  "  All 
people  are  like  people,  and  he  is  like  a  monk.    He  is  so 

i6 


MOTHER 

stern.  It's  not  according  to  his  years."  At  other  times 
she  thought :  "  Maybe  he  has  become  interested  in  some 
sort  of  a  girl  down  there," 

But  to  go  about  with  girls,  money  is  needed,  and  he 
gave  almost  all  his  earnings  to  her. 

Thus  weeks  and  months  elapsed;  and  imperceptibly 
two  years  slipped  by,  two  years  of  a  strange,  silent  life, 
full  of  disquieting  thoughts  and  anxieties  that  kept  con- 
tinually increasing. 

Once,  when  after  supper  Pavel  drew  the  curtain  over 
the  window,  sat  down  in  a  corner,  and  began  to  read, 
his  tin  lamp  hanging  on  the  wall  over  his  head,  the 
mother,  after  removing  the  dishes,  came  out  from  the 
kitchen  and  carefully  walked  up  to  him.  He  raised  his 
head,  and  without  speaking  looked  at  her  with  a  ques- 
tioning expression. 

"Nothing,  Pasha,  just  so!"  she  said  hastily,  and 
walked  away,  moving  her  eyebrows  agitatedly.  But 
after  standing  in  the  kitchen  for  a  moment,  motionless, 
thoughtful,  deeply  preoccupied,  she  washed  her  hands 
and  approached  her  son  again. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you,"  she  said  in  a  low,  soft  voice, 
"  what  you  read  all  the  time." 

He  put  his  book  aside  and  said  to  her: 

"  Sit  down,  mother." 

The  mother  sat  down  heavily  at  his  side,  and  straight- 
ening herself  into  an  attitude  of  intense,  painful  expecta- 
tion waited  for  something  momentous. 

Without  looking  at  her,  Pavel  spoke,  not  loudly,  but 
for  some  reason  very  sternly: 

"  I  am  reading  forbidden  books.  They  are  forbid- 
den to  be  read  because  they  tell  the  truth  about  our — 
about  the  workingmen's  life.  They  are  printed  in  se- 
cret, and  if  I  am  found  with  them   I  will  be  put  in 

17 


MOTHER 

prison — I  will  be  put  in  prison  because  I  want  to  know 
the  truth." 

Breathing  suddenly  became  difficult  for  her.  Open- 
ing her  eyes  wide  she  looked  at  her  son,  and  he  seemed 
to  her  new,  as  if  a  stranger.  His  voice  was  different, 
lower,  deeper,  more  sonorous.  He  pinched  his  thin, 
downy  mustache,  and  looked  oddly  askance  into  the  cor- 
ner.    She  grew  anxious  for  her  son  and  pitied  him. 

"  Why  do  you  do  this.  Pasha  ?  " 

He  raised  his  head,  looked  at  her,  and  said  in  a  low, 
calm  voice: 

"  I  want  to  know  the  truth." 

His  voice  sounded  placid,  but  firm;  and  his  eyes 
flashed  resolution.  She  understood  with  her  heart  that 
her  son  had  consecrated  himself  forever  to  something 
mysterious  and  awful.  Everything  in  life  had  always 
appeared  to  her  inevitable ;  she  was  accustomed  to  submit 
without  thought,  and  now,  too,  she  only  wept  softly, 
finding  no  words,  but  in  her  heart  she  was  oppressed  with 
sorrow  and  distress. 

*'  Don't  cry,"  said  Pavel,  kindly  and  softly ;  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  he  was  bidding  her  farewell. 

"  Think  what  kind  of  a  life  you  are  leading.  You 
are  forty  years  old,  and  have  you  lived?  Father  beat 
you.  I  understand  now  that  he  avenged  his  wretched- 
ness on  your  body,  the  wretchedness  of  his  life.  It 
pressed  upon  him,  and  he  did  not  know  whence  it  came. 
He  worked  for  thirty  years ;  he  began  to  work  when  the 
whole  factory  occupied  but  two  buildings ;  now  there  are 
seven  of  them.  The  mills  grow,  and  people  die,  working 
for  them." 

She  listened  to  him  eagerly  and  awestruck.  His  eyes 
burned  with  a  beautiful  radiance.  Leaning  forward  on 
the  table  he  moved  nearer  to  his  mother,  and  looking 

i8 


MOTHER 

Straight  into  her  face,  wet  with  tears,  he  delivered  his 
first  speech  to  her  about  the  truth  which  he  had  now 
come  to  understand.  With  the  naivete  of  youth,  and  the 
ardor  of  a  young  student  proud  of  his  knowledge,  re- 
ligiously confiding  in  its  truth,  he  spoke  about  everything 
that  was  clear  to  him,  and  spoke  not  so  much  for  his 
mother  as  to  verify  and  strengthen  his  own  opinions. 
At  times  he  halted,  finding  no  words,  and  then  he  saw 
before  him  a  disturbed  face,  in  which  dimly  shone  a 
pair  of  kind  eyes  clouded  with  tears.  They  looked  on 
with  awe  and  perplexity.  He  was  sorry  for  his  mother, 
and  began  to  speak  again,  about  herself  and  her  life. 

"  What  joys  did  you  know?  "  he  asked.  "  What  sort 
of  a  past  can  you  recall  ?  " 

She  listened  and  shook  her  head  dolefully,  feeling 
something  new,  unknown  to  her,  both  sorrowful  and 
gladsome,  like  a  caress  to  her  troubled  and  aching  heart. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  heard  such  language  about 
herself,  her  own  life.  It  awakened  in  her  misty,  dim 
thoughts,  long  dormant ;  gently  roused  an  almost  ex- 
tinct feeling  of  rebellion,  perplexed  dissatisfaction — 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  a  remote  youth.  She  often 
discussed  life  with  her  neighbors,  spoke  a  great  deal 
about  everything;  but  all,  herself  included,  only  com- 
plained; no  one  explained  why  life  was  so  hard  and 
burdensome. 

And  now  her  son  sat  before  her;  and  what  he  said 
about  her — his  eyes,  his  face,  his  words — it  all  clutched 
at  her  heart,  filling  her  with  a  sense  of  pride  for  her  son, 
who  truly  understood  the  life  of  his  mother,  and  spoke 
the  truth  about  her  and  her  sufferings,  and  pitied  her. 

Mothers  are  not  pitied.  She  knew  it.  She  did  not 
understand  Pavel  when  speaking  about  matters  not  per- 
taining to  herself,  but  all  he  said  about  her  own  woman's 

19 


MOTHER 

existence  was  bitterly  familiar  and  true.  Hence  it  seemed 
to  her  that  every  word  of  his  was  perfectly  true,  and  her 
bosom  throbbed  with  a  gentle  sensation  which  warmed 
it  more  and  more  with  an  unknown,  kindly  caress. 

''What  do  you  want  to  do,  then?"  she  asked,  in- 
terrupting his  speech. 

"  Study  and  then  teach  others.  We  workingmen 
must  study.  We  must  learn,  we  must  understand  why 
life  is  so  hard  for  us." 

It  was  sweet  to  her  to  see  that  his  blue  eyes,  always 
so  serious  and  stern,  now  glowed  with  warmth,  softly 
illuminating  something  new  within  him.  A  soft,  con- 
tented smile  played  around  her  lips,  although  the  tears 
still  trembled  in  the  wrinkles  of  her  face.  She  wavered 
between  two  feelings:  pride  in  her  son  who  desired  the 
good  of  all  people,  had  pity  for  all,  and  understood  the 
sorrow  and  affliction  of  life;  and  the  involuntary  regret 
for  his  youth,  because  he  did  not  speak  like  everybody 
else,  because  he  resolved  to  enter  alone  into  a  fight 
against  the  life  to  which  all,  including  herself,  were  ac- 
customed. 

She  wanted  to  say  to  him :  "  My  dear,  what  can  you 
do?    People  will  crush  you.    You  will  perish." 

But  it  was  pleasant  to  her  to  listen  to  his  speeches,  and 
she  feared  to  disturb  her  delight  in  her  son,  who  sud- 
denly revealed  himself  so  new  and  wise,  even  if  some- 
what strange. 

Pavel  saw  the  smile  around  his  mother's  lips,  the  at- 
tention in  her  face,  the  love  in  her  eyes ;  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  compelled  her  to  understand  his  truth ;  and 
youthful  pride  in  the  power  of  his  word  heightened  his 
faith  in  himself.  Seized  with  enthusiasm,  he  continued 
to  talk,  now  smiling,  now  frowning.  Occasionally  hatred 
sounded  in  his  words ;  and  when  his  mother  heard  its  bit- 

20 


MOTHER 

ter,  harsh  accents  she  shook  her  head,  frightened,  and 
asked  in  a  low  voice : 

"Is  it  so,  Pasha?" 

"  It  is  so !  "  he  answered  firmly.  And  he  told  her 
about  people  who  wanted  the  good  of  men,  and  whcr 
sowed  truth  among  them ;  and  because  of  this  the 
enemies  of  life  hunted  them  down  like  beasts,  thrust 
them  into  prisons,  and  exiled  them,  and  set  them  to 
hard  labor. 

"  I  have  seen  such  people ! "  he  exclaimed  passion- 
ately.   *'  They  are  the  best  people  on  earth !  " 

These  people  filled  the  mother  with  terror,  and  she 
wanted  to  ask  her  son:  "  Is  it  so.  Pasha?  " 

But  she  hesitated,  and  leaning  back  she  listened  to  the 
stories  of  people  incomprehensible  to  her,  who  taught  her 
son  to  speak  and  think  words  and  thoughts  so  danger- 
ous to  him.    Finally  she  said : 

*'  It  will  soon  be  daylight.  You  ought  to  go  to  bed. 
You've  got  to  go  to  work." 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  to  bed  at  once,"  he  assented.  "  Did  you 
understand  me  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  she  said,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  Tears 
rolled  down  from  her  eyes  again,  and  breaking  into  sobs 
she  added :  "  You  will  perish,  my  son  1 " 

Pavel  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Well,  now  you  know  what  I  am  doing  and  where 
I  am  going.  I  told  you  all.  I  beg  of  you,  mother,  if  you 
love  me,  do  not  hinder  me !  " 

"  My  darling,  my  beloved !  "  she  cried,  "  maybe  it 
would  be  better  for  me  not  to  have  known  anything !  " 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  firmly  in  his.  The 
word  "  mother,"  pronounced  by  him  with  feverish  em- 
phasis, and  that  clasp  of  the  hand  so  new  and  strange, 
moved  her. 

21 


MOTHER 

"  I  will  do  nothing !  "  she  said  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  Only  be  on  your  guard !  Be  on  your  guard !  "  Not 
knowing  what  he  should  be  on  his  guard  against,  nor 
how  to  warn  him,  she  added  mournfully :  "  You  are  get- 
ting so  thin." 

And  with  a  look  of  afifectionate  warmth,  which 
seemed  to  embrace  his  firm,  well-shaped  body,  she  said 
hastily,  and  in  a  low  voice : 

"  God  be  with  you !  Live  as  you  want  to.  I  will  not 
hinder  you.  One  thing  only  I  beg  of  you — do  not  speak 
to  people  unguardedly !  You  must  be  on  the  watch  with 
people;  they  all  hate  one  another.  They  live  in  greed 
and  envy;  all  are  glad  to  do  injury;  people  persecute  out 
of  sheer  amusement.  When  you  begin  to  accuse  them 
and  to  judge  them,  they  will  hate  you,  and  will  hound 
you  to  destruction !  " 

Pavel  stood  in  the  doorway  listening  to  the  melan- 
choly speech,  and  when  the  mother  had  finished  he  said 
with  a  smile : 

"  Yes,  people  are  sorry  creatures ;  but  when  I  came  to 
recognize  that  there  is  truth  in  the  world,  people  became 
better."  He  smiled  again  and  added :  "  I  do  not  know 
how  it  happened  myself!  From  childhood  I  feared 
everybody;  as  I  grew  up  I  began  to  hate  everybody, 
some  for  their  meanness,  others — well,  I  do  not  know 
why — just  so !  And  now  I  see  all  the  people  in  a  differ- 
ent way.  I  am  grieved  for  them  all !  I  cannot  under- 
stand it ;  but  my  heart  turned  softer  when  I  recognized 
that  there  is  truth  in  men,  and  that  not  all  are  to  blame 
for  their  foulness  and  filth." 

He  was  silent  as  if  listening  to  something  within  him- 
self.   Then  he  said  in  a  low  voice  and  thoughtfully : 

"  That's  how  truth  lives." 

She  looked  at  him  tenderly. 
22 


MOTHER 

"  May  God  protect  you !  "  she  sighed.  "  It  is  a  dan- 
gerous change  that  has  come  upon  you." 

When  he  had  fallen  asleep,  the  mother  rose  carefully 
from  her  bed  and  came  gently  into  her  son's  room. 
Pavel's  swarthy,  resolute,  stern  face  was  clearly  out- 
Hned  against  the  white  pillow.  Pressing  her  hand  to  her 
bosom,  the  mother  stood  at  his  bedside.  Her  lips  moved 
mutely,  and  great  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 


CHAPTER    III 

GAIN  they  lived  in  silence,  distant  and  yet 
near  to  each  other.  Once,  in  the  middle 
of  the  week,  on  a  holiday,  as  he  was  pre- 
paring to  leave  the  house  he  said  to  his 
mother : 

"  I  expect  some  people  here  on  Saturday.'* 
"  What  people  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Some  people  from  our  village,  and  others  from  the 
city." 

"  From  the  city  ?  "  repeated  the  mother,  shaking  her 
head.    And  suddenly  she  broke  into  sobs. 

"  Now,  mother,  why  this  ?  "  cried  Pavel  resentfully. 
"What  for?" 

Drying  her  face  with  her  apron,  she  answered 
quietly : 

'*  I  don't  know,  but  it  is  the  way  I  feel." 
He  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  then  halting  before 
her,  said : 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  acknowledged.  "  Those  people 
from  the  city — who  knows  them  ?  " 

He  bent  down  to  look  in  her  face,  and  said  in  an  of- 
fended tone,  and,  it  seemed  to  her,  angrily,  like  his 
father : 

''  This  fear  is  what  is  the  ruin  of  us  all.  And  some 
dominate    us;   they    take    advantage    of    our    fear    and 

24 


I 


MOTHER 

frighten  us  still  more.  Mark  this :  as  long  as  people  are 
afraid,  they  will  rot  like  the  birches  in  the  marsh.  We 
must  grow  bold ;  it  is  time ! 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  from  her ; 
"  they'll  meet  in  my  house,  anyway." 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me !  "  the  mother  begged  sadly. 
"  How  can  I  help  being  afraid  ?  All  my  life  I  have  lived 
in  fear !  " 

"  Forgive  me ! "  was  his  gentler  reply,  "  but  I  cannot 
do  otherwise,"  and  he  walked  away. 

For  three  days  her  heart  was  in  a  tremble,  sinking  in 
fright  each  time  she  remembered  that  strange  people 
were  soon  to  come  to  her  house.  She  could  not  picture 
them  to  herself,  but  it  seemed  to  her  they  were  terrible 
people.  It  was  they  who  had  shown  her  son  the  road  he 
was  going. 

On  Saturday  night  Pavel  came  from  the  factory, 
washed  himself,  put  on  clean  clothes,  and  when  walking 
out  of  the  house  said  to  his  mother  without  looking 
at  her: 

"  When  they  come,  tell  them  I'll  be  back  soon.  Let 
them  wait  a  while.  And  please  don't  be  afraid.  They 
are  people  like  all  other  people." 

She  sank  into  her  seat  almost  fainting. 

Her  son  looked  at  her  soberly.  "  Maybe  you'd  bet- 
ter go  away  somewhere,"  he  suggested. 

The  thought  offended  her.  Shaking  her  head  in  dis- 
sent, she  said : 

"  No,  it's  all  the  same.    What  for?" 

It  was  the  end  of  November.  During  the  day  a  dry, 
fine  snow  had  fallen  upon  the  frozen  earth,  and  now  she 
heard  it  crunching  outside  the  window  under  her  son's 
feet  as  he  walked  away.  A  dense  crust  of  darkness  set- 
tled immovably  upon  the  window  panes,  and  seemed  to 

25 


MOTHER 

He  in  hostile  watch  for  something.  Supporting  herself 
on  the  bench,  the  mother  sat  and  waited,  looking  at  the 
door. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  people  were  stealthily  and 
watchfully  walking  about  the  house  in  the  darkness, 
stooping  and  looking  about  on  all  sides,  strangely 
attired  and  silent.  There  around  the  house  some  one 
was  already  coming,  fumbling  with  his  hands  along  the 
wall. 

A  whistle  was  heard.  It  circled  around  like  the  notes 
of  a  fine  chord,  sad  and  melodious,  wandered  musingly 
into  the  wilderness  of  darkness,  and  seemed  to  be  search- 
ing for  something.  It  came  nearer.  Suddenly  it  died 
away  under  the  window,  as  if  it  had  entered  into  the 
wood  of  the  wall.  The  noise  of  feet  was  heard  on  the 
porch.  The  mother  started,  and  rose  with  a  strained, 
frightened  look  in  her  eyes. 

The  door  opened.  At  first  a  head  with  a  big,  shaggy 
hat  thrust  itself  into  the  room;  then  a  slender,  bending 
body  crawled  in,  straightened  itself  out,  and  deliberately 
raised  its  right  hand. 

"  Good  evening !  '*  said  the  man,  in  a  thick,  bass  voice, 
breathing  heavily. 

The  mother  bowed  in  silence. 

**  Pavel  is  not  at  home  yet  ?  " 

The  stranger  leisurely  removed  his  short  fur  jacket, 
raised  one  foot,  whipped  the  snow  from  his  boot  with  his 
hat,  then  did  the  same  with  the  other  foot,  flung  his  hat 
into  a  corner,  and  rocking  on  his  thin  legs  walked  into  the 
room,  looking  back  at  the  imprints  he  left  on  the  floor. 
He  approached  the  table,  examined  it  as  if  to  satisfy 
himself  of  its  solidity,  and  finally  sat  down  and,  covering 
his  mouth  with  his  hand,  yawned.  His  head  was  per- 
fectly round  and  close-cropped,  his  face  shaven  except 

26 


MOTHER 

for  a  thin  mustache,  the  ends  of  which  pointed  down- 
ward. 

After  carefully  scrutinizing  the  room  with  his  large, 
gray,  protuberant  eyes,  he  crossed  his  legs,  and,  leaning 
his  head  over  the  table,  inquired : 

"  Is  this  your  own  house,  or  do  you  rent  it?  " 

The  mother,  sitting  opposite  him,  answered : 

"  We  rent  it." 

"  Not  a  very  fine  house,"  he  remarked. 

"  Pasha  will  soon  be  here ;  wait,"  said  the  mother 
quietly. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  am  waiting,"  said  the  man. 

His  calmness,  his  deep,  sympathetic  voice,  and  the 
candor  and  simplicity  of  his  face  encouraged  the  mother. 
He  looked  at  her  openly  and  kindly,  and  a  merry  sparkle 
played  in  the  depths  of  his  transparent  eyes.  In  the 
entire  angular,  stooping  figure,  with  its  thin  legs,  there 
was  something  comical,  yet  winning.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  blue  shirt,  and  dark,  loose  trousers  thrust  into  his  boots. 
She  was  seized  with  the  desire  to  ask  him  who  he  was, 
whence  he  came,  and  whether  he  had  known  her  son 
long.  But  suddenly  he  himself  put  a  question,  leaning 
forward  with  a  swing  of  his  whole  body. 

"  Who  made  that  hole  in  your  forehead,  mother?  " 

His  question  was  uttered  in  a  kind  voice  and  with  a 
noticeable  smile  in  his  eyes ;  but  the  woman  was  offended 
by  the  sally.  She  pressed  her  lips  together  tightly,  and 
after  a  pause  rejoined  with  cold  civility: 

"  And  what  business  is  it  of  yours,  sir?  " 

With  the  same  swing  of  his  whole  body  toward  her, 
he  said: 

"  Now,  don't  get  angry !  I  ask  because  my  foster 
mother  had  her  head  smashed  just  exactly  like  yours.  It 
was  her  man  who  did  it  for  her  once,  with  a  last — 
3  27 


MOTHER 

he  was  a  shoemaker,  you  see.  She  was  a  washerwoman 
and  he  was  a  shoemaker.  It  was  after  she  had  taken  me 
as  her  son  that  she  found  him  somewhere,  a  drunkard, 
and  married  him,  to  her  great  misfortune.  He  beat 
her —    I  tell  you,  my  skin  almost  burst  with  terror." 

The  mother  felt  herself  disarmed  by  his  openness. 
Moreover,  it  occurred  to  her  that  perhaps  her  son  would 
be  displeased  with  her  harsh  reply  to  this  odd  personage. 
Smiling  guiltily  she  said : 

*'  I  am  not  angry,  but — you  see — you  asked  so  very 
soon.  It  was  my  good  man,  God  rest  his  soul !  who 
treated  me  to  the  cut.    Are  you  a  Tartar?  " 

The  stranger  stretched  out  his  feet,  and  smiled  so 
broad  a  smile  that  the  ends  of  his  mustache  traveled  to 
the  nape  of  his  neck.    Then  he  said  seriously : 

"  Not  yet.    I'm  not  a  Tartar  yet." 

"  I  asked  because  I  rather  thought  the  way  you  spoke 
was  not  exactly  Russian,"  she  explained,  catching  his 
joke. 

"  I  am  better  than  a  Russian,  I  am !  "  said  the  guest 
laughingly.  "  I  am  a  Little  Russian  from  the  city  of 
Kanyev." 

"  And  have  you  been  here  long?  " 

"  I  lived  in  the  city  about  a  month,  and  I  came  to  your 
factory  about  a  month  ago.  I  found  some  good  people, 
your  son  and  a  few  others.  I  will  live  here  for  a  while," 
he  said,  twirling  his  mustache. 

The  man  pleased  the  mother,  and,  yielding  to  the  im- 
pulse to  repay  him  in  some  way  for  his  kind  words  about 
her  son,  she  questioned  again: 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  to  have  a  glass  of  tea?  " 

"What!  An  entertainment  all  to  myself!"  he  an- 
swered, raising  his  shoulders.  "  I'll  wait  for  the  honor 
until  we  are  all  here." 

28 


MOTHER 

This  allusion  to  the  coming  of  others  recalled  her 
fear  to  her. 

"If  they  all  are  only  like  this  one ! "  was  her  ardent 
wish. 

Again  steps  were  heard  on  the  porch.  The  door 
opened  quickly,  and  the  mother  rose.  This  time  she 
was  taken  completely  aback  by  the  newcomer  in  her 
kitchen — a  poorly  and  lightly  dressed  girl  of  medium 
height,  with  the  simple  face  of  a  peasant  woman,  and 
a  head  of  thick,  dark  hair.  Smiling  she  said  in  a  low 
voice : 

"Am  I  late?" 

"  Why,  no !  "  answered  the  Little  Russian,  looking 
out  of  the  living  room.     "  Come  on  foot  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  Are  you  the  mother  of  Pavel  Vlasov  ? 
Good  evening!    My  name  is  Natasha," 

"  And  your  other  name  ?  "  inquired  the  mother. 

"  Vasilyevna.    And  yours  ?  " 

"  Pelagueya  Nilovna." 

**  So  here  we  are  all  acquainted." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  mother,  breathing  more  easily,  as  if 
relieved,  and  looking  at  the  girl  with  a  smile. 

The  Little  Russian  helped  her  off  with  her  cloak,  and 
inquired: 

"Is  it  cold?" 

"  Out  in  the  open,  very !    The  wind — goodness !  " 

Her  voice  was  musical  and  clear,  her  mouth  small 
and  smiling,  her  body  round  and  vigorous.  Removing 
ber  wraps,  she  rubbed  her  ruddy  cheeks  briskly  with  her 
little  hands,  red  with  the  cold,  and  walking  lightly  and 
quickly  she  passed  into  the  room,  the  heels  of  her  shoes 
rapping  sharply  on  the  floor. 

"  She  goes  without  overshoes,"  the  mother  noted 
silently. 

29 


MOTHER 

"  Indeed  it  is  cold,"  repeated  the  girl.  "  I'm  frozen 
through — ooh  !  " 

'*  I'll  warm  up  the  samovar  for  you !  "  the  mother 
said,  bustling  and  solicitous.  **  Ready  in  a  moment,"  she 
called  from  the  kitchen. 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  her  she  had  known  the  girl 
long,  and  even  loved  her  with  the  tender,  compassionate 
love  of  a  mother.  She  was  glad  to  see  her;  and  recall- 
ing her  guest's  bright  blue  eyes,  she  smiled  contentedly, 
as  she  prepared  the  samovar  and  listened  to  the  conver- 
sation in  the  room. 

"  Why  so  gloomy,  Nakhodka  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  The  widow  has  good  eyes,"  answered  the  Little 
Russian.  "  I  was  thinking  maybe  my  mother  has  such 
eyes.    You  know,  I  keep  thinking  of  her  as  alive." 

"  You  said  she  was  dead  ?  " 

"  That's  my  adopted  mother.  I  am  speaking  now  of 
my  real  mother.  It  seems  to  me  that  perhaps  she  may 
be  somewhere  in  Kiev  begging  alms  and  drinking 
whisky." 

"  Why  do  you  think  such  awful  things?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  And  the  policemen  pick  her  up  on 
the  street  drunk  and  beat  her." 

"  Oh,  you  poor  soul,"  thought  the  mother,  and 
sighed. 

Natasha  muttered  something  hotly  and  rapidly;  and 
again  the  sonorous  voice  of  the  Little  Russian  was  heard. 

"  Ah,  you  are  young  yet,  comrade,"  he  said.  "  You 
haven't  eaten  enough  onions  yet.  Everyone  has  a 
mother,  none  the  less  people  are  bad.  P'or  although  it  is 
hard  to  rear  children,  it  is  still  harder  to  teach  a  man 
to  be  good." 

"  What  strange  ideas  he  has,"  the  mother  thought, 
and  for  a  moment  she  felt  like  contradicting  the  Little 

30 


MOTHER 

Russian  and  telling  him  that  here  was  she  who  would 
have  been  glad  to  teach  her  son  good,  but  knew  nothing 
herself.  The  door,  however,  opened  and  in  came  Nikolay 
Vyesovshchikov,  the  son  of  the  old  thief  Daniel,  known 
in  the  village  as  a  misanthrope.  He  always  kept  at  a 
sullen  distance  from  people,  who  retaliated  by  making 
sport  of  him. 

"  You,  Nikolay !  How's  that  ?  "  she  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

Without  replying  he  merely  looked  at  the  mother 
with  his  little  gray  eyes,  and  wiped  his  pockmarked,  high- 
cheeked  face  with  the  broad  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  Is  Pavel  at  home  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  No." 

He  looked  into  the  room  and  said : 

"  Good  evening,  comrades." 

"  He,  too.  Is  it  possible  ?  "  wondered  the  mother  re- 
sentfully, and  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  Natasha  put 
her  hand  out  to  him  in  a  kind,  glad  welcome. 

The  next  to  come  were  two  young  men,  scarcely 
more  than  boys.  One  of  them  the  mother  knew.  He 
was  Yakob,  the  son  of  the  factory  watchman,  Somov. 
The  other,  with  a  sharp-featured  face,  high  forehead,  and 
curly  hair,  was  unknown  to  her;  but  he,  too,  was  not 
terrible. 

Finally  Pavel  appeared,  and  with  him  two  men,  both 
of  whose  faces  she  recognized  as  those  of  workmen  ia 
the  factory. 

"  You've  prepared  the  samovar !  That's  fine.  Thank 
you ! "  said  Pavel  as  he  saw  what  his  mother  had 
done. 

**  Perhaps  I  should  get  some  vodka,"  she  suggested, 
not  knowing  how  to  express  her  gratitude  to  him  for 
something  which  as  yet  she  did  not  understand. 

31 


MOTHER 

"  No,  we  don't  need  it ! ''  he  responded,  removing  his 
coat  and  smiHng  affectionately  at  her. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  her  son,  by  way  of 
jest,  had  purposely  exaggerated  the  danger  of  the  gath- 
ering. 

"  Are  these  the  ones  they  call  illegal  people  ?  "  she 
whispered. 

**  The  very  ones !  "  answered  Pavel,  and  passed  into 
the  room. 

She  looked  lovingly  after  him  and  thought  to  herself 
condescendingly : 

"  Mere  children !  " 

When  the  samovar  boiled,  and  she  brought  it  into  the 
room,  she  found  the  guests  sitting  in  a  close  circle  around 
the  table,  and  Natasha  installed  in  the  corner  under  the 
lamp  with  a  book  in  her  hands. 

"  In  order  to  understand  why  people  live  so  badly," 
said  Natasha. 

"  And  why  they  are  themselves  so  bad,"  put  in  the 
Little  Russian. 

**  It  is  necessary  to  see  how  they  began  to  live " 

"  See,  my  dears,  see !  "  mumbled  the  mother,  making 
the  tea. 

They  all  stopped  talking. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  mother  ?  "  asked  Pavel,  knitting 
his  brows. 

"What?"  She  looked  around,  and  seeing  the  eyes 
of  all  upon  her  she  explained  with  embarrassment,  "  I 
was  just  speaking  to  myself." 

Natasha  laughed  and  Pavel  smiled,  but  the  Little 
Russian  said :  '*  Thank  you  for  the  tea,  mother." 

"  Hasn't  drunk  it  yet  and  thanks  me  already,"  she 
commented  inwardly.  Looking  at  her  son,  she  asked: 
"  I  am  not  in  your  way  ?  " 

32 


MOTHER 

"  How  can  the  hostess  in  her  own  home  be  in  the  way 
of  her  guests  ?  "  replied  Natasha,  and  then  continuing 
with  childish  plaintiveness :  "  Mother  dear,  give  me  tea 
quick!  I  am  shivering  with  cold;  my  feet  are  all 
frozen." 

"  In  a  moment,  in  a  moment !  "  exclaimed  the  mother, 
hurrying. 

Having  drunk  a  cup  of  tea,  Natasha  drew  a  long 
breath,  brushed  her  hair  back  from  her  forehead,  and 
began  to  read  from  a  large  yellow-covered  book  with 
pictures.  The  mother,  careful  not  to  make  a  noise  with 
the  dishes,  poured  tea  into  the  glasses,  and  strained  her 
untrained  mind  to  listen  to  the  girl's  fluent  reading.  The 
melodious  voice  blended  with  the  thin,  musical  hum  of 
the  samovar.  The  clear,  simple  narrative  of  savage  peo- 
ple who  lived  in  caves  and  killed  the  beasts  with  stones 
floated  and  quivered  like  a  dainty  ribbon  in  the  room.  It 
sounded  like  a  tale,  and  the  mother  looked  up  to  her  son 
occasionally,  wishing  to  ask  him  what  was  illegal  in  the 
story  about  wild  men.  But  she  soon  ceased  to  follow 
the  narrative  and  began  to  scrutinize  the  guests,  unnoticed 
by  them  or  her  son. 

Pavel  sat  at  Natasha's  side.  He  was  the  handsomest 
of  them  all.  Natasha  bent  down  very  low  over  the  book. 
At  times  she  tossed  back  the  thin  curls  that  kept  running 
down  over  her  forehead^  and  lowered  her  voice  to  say 
something  not  in  the  book,  with  a  kind  look  at  the  faces 
of  her  auditors.  The  Little  Russian  bent  his  broad  chest 
over  a  corner  of  the  table,  and  squinted  his  eyes  in  the 
effort  to  see  the  worn  ends  of  his  mustache,  which  he 
constantly  twirled.  Vyesovshchikov  sat  on  his  chair 
straight  as  a  pole,  his  palms  resting  on  his  knees,  and  his 
pockmarked  face,  browless  and  thin-lipped,  immobile  as 
a  mask.     He  kept  his  narrow-eyed  gaze  stubbornly  fixed 

33 


MOTHER 

upon  the  reflection  of  his  face  in  the  glittering  brass  of 
the  samovar.  He  seemed  not  even  to  breathe.  Little 
Somov  moved  his  lips  mutely,  as  if  repeating  to  himself 
the  words  in  the  book;  and  his  curly-haired  companion, 
with  bent  body,  elbows  on  knees,  his  face  supported  on 
his  hands,  smiled  abstractedly.  One  of  the  men  who  had 
entered  at  the  same  time  as  Pavel,  a  slender  young  chap 
with  red,  curly  hair  and  merry  green  eyes,  apparently 
wanted  to  say  something ;  for  he  kept  turning  around  im- 
patiently. The  other,  light-haired  and  closely  cropped, 
stroked  his  head  with  his  hand  and  looked  down  on  the 
floor  so  that  his  face  remained  invisible. 

It  was  warm  in  the  room,  and  the  atmosphere  was 
genial.  The  mother  responded  to  this  peculiar  charm, 
which  she  had  never  before  felt.  She  was  affected  by  the 
purling  of  Natasha's  voice,  mingled  with  the  quavering 
hum  of  the  samovar,  and  recalled  the  noisy  evening  par- 
ties of  her  youth — the  coarseness  of  the  young  men, 
whose  breath  always  smelled  of  vodka — their  cynical 
jokes.  She  remembered  all  this,  and  an  oppressive  sense 
of  pity  for  her  own  self  gently  stirred  her  worn,  out- 
raged heart. 

Before  her  rose  the  scene  of  the  wooing  of  her  hus- 
band. At  one  of  the  parties  he  had  seized  her  in  a  dark 
porch,  and  pressing  her  with  his  whole  body  to  the  wall 
asked  in  a  gruff,  vexed  voice: 

"  Will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

She  had  been  pained  and  had  felt  offended ;  but  he 
rudely  dug  his  fingers  into  her  flesh,  snorted  heavily,  and 
breathed  his  hot,  humid  breath  into  her  face.  She  strug- 
gled to  tear  herself  out  of  his  grasp. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  he  roared.     "  Answer  me !     Well  ?  " 

Out  of  breath,  shamed  and  insulted,  she  remained 
silent. 


MOTHER 

"  Don't  put  on  airs  now,  you  fool !  I  know  your  kind. 
You  are  mighty  pleased." 

Some  one  opened  the  door.  He  let  her  go  leisurely, 
saying : 

"  I  will  send  a  matchmaker  to  you  next  Sunday." 

And  he  did. 

The  mother  covered  her  eyes  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

*'  I  do  not  want  to  know  how  people  used  to  live,  but 
how  they  ought  to  live !  "  The  dull,  dissatisfied  voice  of 
Vyesovshchikov  was  heard  in  the  room. 

"  That's  it  I "  corroborated  the  red-headed  man, 
rising. 

"  And  I  disagree !  "  cried  Somov.  *'  If  we  are  to  go 
forward,  we  must  know  everything." 

*'  True,  true !  "  said  the  curly-headed  youth  in  a  low 
tone. 

A  heated  discussion  ensued;  and  the  words  flashed 
like  tongues  of  fire  in  a  wood  pile.  The  mother  did  not 
understand  what  they  were  shouting  about.  All  faces 
glowed  in  an  aureole  of  animation,  but  none  grew  angry, 
no  one  spoke  the  harsh,  offensive  words  so  familiar 
to  her. 

"  They  restrain  themselves  on  account  of  a  woman's 
presence,"  she  concluded. 

The  serious  face  of  Natasha  pleased  her.  The  young 
woman  looked  at  all  these  young  men  so  considerately, 
with  the  air  of  an  elder  person  toward  children. 

**  Wait,  comrades,"  she  broke  out  suddenly.  And 
they  all  grew  silent  and  turned  their  eyes  upon  her. 

"  Those  who  say  that  we  ought  to  know  everything 
are  right.  We  ought  to  illumine  ourselves  with  the  light 
of  reason,  so  that  the  people  in  the  dark  may  see  us; 
we  ought  to  be  able  to  answer  every  question  honestly 

35 


MOTHER 

and  truly.  We  must  know  all  the  truth,  all  the  false- 
hood." 

The  Little  Russian  listened  and  nodded  his  head  in 
accompaniment  to  her  words.  Vyesovshchikov,  the  red- 
haired  fellow,  and  the  other  factory  worker,  who  had 
come  with  Pavel,  stood  in  a  close  circle  of  three.  For 
some  reason  the  mother  did  not  like  them. 

When  Natasha  ceased  talking,  Pavel  arose  and  asked 
calmly : 

"  Is  filling  our  stomachs  the  only  thing  we  want?  " 

"  No !  "  he  answered  himself,  looking  hard  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  three.  **  We  want  to  be  people.  We  must 
show  those  who  sit  on  our  necks,  and  cover  up  our  eyes, 
that  we  see  everything,  that  we  are  not  foolish,  we  are 
not  animals,  and  that  we  do  not  want  merely  to  eat,  but 
also  to  live  like  decent  human  beings.  We  must  show 
our  enemies  that  our  life  of  servitude,  of  hard  toil  which 
they  impose  upon  us,  does  not  hinder  us  from  measuring 
up  to  them  in  intellect,  and  as  to  spirit,  that  we  rise  far 
above  them ! " 

The  mother  listened  to  his  words,  and  a  feeling  of 
pride  in  her  son  stirred  her  bosom — how  eloquently  he 
spoke ! 

"  People  with  well-filled  stomachs  are,  after  all,  not 
a  few,  but  honest  people  there  are  none,"  said  the  Little 
Russian.  *'  We  ought  to  build  a  bridge  across  the  bog 
of  this  rotten  life  to  a  future  of  soulful  goodness.  That's 
our  task,  that's  what  we  have  to  do,  comrades !  " 

''  When  the  time  is  come  to  fight,  it's  not  the  time  to 
cure  the  finger,"  said  Vyesovshchikov  dully. 

"  There  will  be  enough  breaking  of  our  bones  before 
we  get  to  fighting !  "  the  Little  Russian  put  in  merrily. 

It  was  already  past  midnight  when  the  group  be- 
gan to  break  up.     The  first  to  go  were  Vyesovshchikov 

36 


MOTHER 

and  the  red-haired  man  —  which  again  displeased  the 
mother. 

"  Hm !  How  they  hurry !  "  she  thought,  nodding 
them  a  not  very  friendly  farewell. 

"  Will  you  see  me  home,  Nakhodka  ?  "  asked  Natasha. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  answered  the  Little  Russian. 

When  Natasha  put  on  her  wraps  in  the  kitchen,  the 
mother  said  to  her :  *'  Your  stockings  are  too  thin  for  this 
time  of  the  year.  Let  me  knit  some  woolen  ones  for  you, 
will  you,  please  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Pelagueya  Nilovna.  Woolen  stockings 
scratch,"  Natasha  answered,  smiling. 

"  I'll  make  them  so  they  won't  scratch.** 

Natasha  looked  at  her  rather  perplexedly,  and  her 
fixed  serious  glance  hurt  the  mother. 

"  Pardon  me  my  stupidity ;  like  my  good  will,  it's 
from  my  heart,  you  know,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  How  kind  you  are !  "  Natasha  answered  in  the  same 
voice,  giving  her  a  hasty  pressure  of  the  hand  and  walk- 
ing out. 

"  Good  night,  mother !  "  said  the  Little  Russian,  look- 
ing into  her  eyes.  His  bending  body  followed  Natasha 
out  to  the  porch. 

The  mother  looked  at  her  son.  He  stood  in  the  room 
at  the  door  and  smiled. 

"  The  evening  was  fine,"  he  declared,  nodding  his 
head  energetically.  "  It  was  fine !  But  now  I  think 
you'd  better  go  to  bed ;  it's  time." 

"  And  it's  time  for  you,  too.    I'm  going  in  a  minute." 

She  busied  herself  about  the  table  gathering  the 
dishes  together,  satisfied  and  even  glowing  with  a  pleas- 
urable agitation.  She  was  glad  that  everything  had  gone 
so  well  and  had  ended  peaceably. 

"  You  arranged  it  nicely,  Pavlusha.  They  certainly 
Z7 


MOTHER 

are  good  people.  The  Little  Russian  is  such  a  hearty  fel- 
low. And  the  young  lady,  what  a  bright,  wise  girl  she 
is!    Who  is  she?" 

"  A  teacher,"  answered  Pavel,  pacing  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  Ah !  Such  a  poor  thing !  Dressed  so  poorly !  Ah, 
so  poorly!  It  doesn't  take  long  to  catch  a  cold.  And 
where  are  her  relatives  ?  " 

"  In  Moscow,"  said  Pavel,  stopping  before  his 
mother.  "  Look !  her  father  is  a  rich  man ;  he  is  in  the 
hardware  business,  and  owns  much  property.  He  drove 
her  out  of  the  house  because  she  got  into  this  movement. 
She  grew  up  in  comfort  and  warmth,  she  was  coddled 
and  indulged  in  everything  she  desired — and  now  she 
walks  four  miles  at  night  all  by  herself." 

The  mother  was  shocked.  She  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  looked  mutely  at  her  son.  Then  she 
asked  quietly : 

''  Is  she  going  to  the  city?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  is  she  not  afraid?" 

"  No,"  said  Pavel  smiling. 

"  Why  did  she  go  ?  She  could  have  stayed  here  over- 
night, and  slept  with  me." 

"  That  wouldn't  do.  She  might  have  been  seen  here 
to-morrow  morning,  and  we  don't  want  that;  nor  does 
she." 

The  mother  recollected  her  previous  anxieties, 
looked  thoughtfully  through  the  window,  and  asked : 

"  I  cannot  understand,  Pasha,  what  there  is  danger- 
ous in  all  this,  or  illegal.  Why,  you  are  not  doing  any- 
thing bad,  are  you?" 

She  was  not  quite  assured  of  the  safety  and  propriety 
of  his  conduct,  and  was  eager  for  a  confirmation  from 

38 


MOTHER 

her  son.     But  he  looked  calmly  into  her  eyes,  and  de- 
clared in  a  firm  voice: 

"  There  is  nothing  bad  in  what  we're  doing,  and 
there's  not  going  to  be.  And  yet  the  prison  is  awaiting 
us  all.    You  may  as  well  know  it." 

Her  hands  trembled.  *'  Maybe  God  will  grant  you 
escape  somehow,"  she  said  with  sunken  voice. 

"  No,"  said  the  son  kindly,  but  decidedly.  "  I  cannot 
lie  to  you.  We  will  not  escape."  He  smiled.  "  Now 
go  to  bed.    You  are  tired.    Good  night." 

Left  alone,  she  walked  up  to  the  window,  and  stood 
there  looking  into  the  street.  Outside  it  was  cold  and 
cheerless.  The  wind  howled,  blowing  the  snow  from  the 
roofs  of  the  little  sleeping  houses.  Striking  against  the 
walls  and  whispering  something,  quickly  it  fell  upon  the 
ground  and  drifted  the  white  clouds  of  dry  snowflakes 
across  the  street. 

"  O  Christ  in  heaven,  have  mercy  upon  us !  "  prayed 
the  mother. 

The  tears  began  to  gather  in  her  eyes,  as  fear  re- 
turned persistently  to  her  heart,  and  like  a  moth  in  the 
night  she  seemed  to  see  fluttering  the  woe  of  which  her 
son  spoke  with  such  composure  and  assurance. 

Before  her  eyes  as  she  gazed  a  smooth  plain  of  snow 
spread  out  in  the  distance.  The  wind,  carrying  white, 
shaggy  masses,  raced  over  the  plain,  piping  cold,  shrill 
whistles.  Across  the  snowy  expanse  moved  a  girl's  fig- 
ure, dark  and  solitary,  rocking  to  and  fro.  The  wind 
fluttered  her  dress,  clogged  her  footsteps,  and  drove 
pricking  snowflakes  into  her  face.  Walking  was  diffi- 
cult ;  the  little  feet  sank  into  the  snow.  Cold  and  fearful 
the  girl  bent  forward,  like  a  blade  of  grass,  the  sport  of 
the  wanton  wind.  To  the  right  of  her  on  the  marsh 
stood  the  dark  wall  of  the  forest;  the  bare  birches  and 

39 


MOTHER 

aspens  quivered  and  rustled  with  a  mournful  cr}-.  Yon- 
der in  the  distance,  before  her,  the  lights  of  the  city  glim- 
mered dimly. 

"  Lord  in  heaven,  have  mercy !  "  the  mother  mut- 
tered again,  shuddering  with  the  cold  and  horror  of  an 
unformed  fear. 


CHAPTER   IV 

HE  days  glided  by  one  after  the  other,  Uke 
the  beads  of  a  rosary,  and  grew  into  weeks 
and  months.  Every  Saturday  Pavel's 
friends  gathered  in  his  house;  and  each 
meeting  formed  a  step  up  a  long  stairway, 
which  led  somewhere  into  the  distance,  gradually  lifting 
the  people  higher  and  higher.  But  its  top  remained  in- 
visible. 

New  people  kept  coming.  The  small  room  of  the 
Vlasovs  became  crowded  and  close.  Natasha  arrived 
every  Saturday  night,  cold  and  tired,  but  always  fresh 
and  lively,  in  inexhaustible  good  spirits.  The  mother 
made  stockings,  and  herself  put  them  on  the  little  feet. 
Natasha  laughed  at  first;  but  suddenly  grew  silent  and 
thoughtful,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  to  the  mother : 

"  I  had  a  nurse  who  was  also  ever  so  kind.     How    "^^ 
strange,  Pelagueya  Nilovna !    The  workingmen  live  such 
a  hard,  outraged  life,  and  yet  there  is  more  heart,  more 
goodness  in  them  than  in — those !  "    And  she  waved  her     ' 
hand,  pointing  somewhere  far,  very  far  from  herself. 

"  See  what  sort  of  a  person  you  are,"  the  older 
woman  answered.  "  You  have  left  your  own  family  and 
everything — "  She  was  unable  to  finish  her  thought,  and 
heaving  a  sigh  looked  silently  into  Natasha's  face  with 
a  feeling  of  gratitude  to  the  girl  for  she  knew  not  what. 
She  sat  on  the  floor  before  Natasha,  who  smiled  and  fell 
to  musing. 

41 


MOTHER 

"  I  have  abandoned  my  family?  "  she  repeated,  bend- 
ing her  head  down.  "  That's  nothing.  My  father  is  a 
stupid,  coarse  man — my  brother  also — and  a  drunkard, 
besides.  My  oldest  sister — unhappy,  wretched  thing — 
married  a  man  much  older  than  herself,  very  rich,  a  bore 
and  greedy.  But  my  mother  I  am  sorry  for!  She's  a 
simple  woman  like  you,  a  beaten-down,  frightened  crea- 
ture, so  tiny,  like  a  little  mouse — she  runs  so  quickly  and 
is  afraid  of  everybody.  And  sometimes  I  want  to  see 
her  so — my  mother !  " 

"  My  poor  thing !  "  said  the  mother  sadly,  shaking  her 
head. 

The  girl  quickly  threw  up  her  head  and  cried  out: 

"  Oh,  no !    At  times  I  feel  such  joy,  such  happiness !  " 

Her  face  paled  and  her  blue  eyes  gleamed.  Placing 
her  hands  on  the  mother's  shoulders  she  said  with  a  deep 
voice  issuing  from  her  very  heart,  quietly  as  if  in  an 
ecstasy : 

"  If  you  knew — if  you  but  understood  what  a  great, 
joyous  work  we  are  doing !  You  will  come  to  feel  it  1  " 
she  exclaimed  with  conviction. 

A  feeling  akin  to  envy  touched  the  heart  of  the 
mother.    Rising  from  the  floor  she  said  plaintively: 

"  I  am  too  old  for  that — ignorant  and  old." 

Pavel  spoke  more  and  more  often  and  at  greater 
length,  discussed  more  and  more  hotly,  and — grew  thin- 
ner and  thinner.  It  seemed  to  his  mother  that  when  he 
spoke  to  Natasha  or  looked  at  her  his  eyes  turned  softer, 
his  voice  sounded  fonder,  and  his  entire  bearing  became 
simpler. 

"  Heaven  grant !  "  she  thought ;  and  imagining  Na- 
tasha as  her  daughter-in-law,  she  smiled  inwardly. 

Whenever  at  the  meetings  the  disputes  waxed  too  hot 
and  stormy,  the  Litre  Russian  stood  up,   and  rocking 

42 


MOTHER 

himself  to  and  fro  like  the  tongue  of  a  bell,  he  spoke  in 
his  sonorous,  resonant  voice  simple  and  good  words 
which  allayed  their  excitement  and  recalled  them  to 
their  purpose.  Vyesovshchikov  always  kept  hurrying 
everybody  on  somewhere.  He  and  the  red-haired  youth 
called  Samoylov  were  the  first  to  begin  all  disputes.  On 
their  side  were  always  Ivan  Bukin,  with  the  round  head 
and  the  white  eyebrows  and  lashes,  who  looked  as  if  he 
had  been  hung  out  to  dry,  or  washed  out  with  lye ;  and 
the  curly-headed,  lofty-browed  Fedya  Mazin.  Modest 
Yakob  Somov,  always  smoothly  combed  and  clean,  spoke 
little  and  briefly,  with  a  quiet,  serious  voice,  and  always 
took  sides  with  Pavel  and  the  Little  Russian. 

Sometimes,  instead  of  Natasha,  Alexey  Ivanovich,  a 
native  of  some  remote  government,  came  from  the  city. 
He  wore  eyeglasses,  his  beard  was  shiny,  and  he  spoke 
with  a  peculiar  singing  voice.  He  produced  the  impres- 
sion of  a  stranger  from  a  far-distant  land.  He  spoke 
about  simple  matters — about  family  life,  about  children, 
about  commerce,  the  police,  the  price  of  bread  and  meat 
— about*  everything  by  which  people  live  from  day  to 
day;  and  in  everything  he  discovered  fraud,  confusion, 
and  stupidity,  sometimes  setting  these  matters  in  a  hu- 
morous light,  but  always  showing  their  decided  disadvan- 
tage to  the  people. 

To  the  mother,  too,  it  seemed  that  he  had  come  from 
far  away,  from  another  country,  where  all  the  people 
lived  a  simple,  honest,  easy  life,  and  that  here  everything 
was  strange  to  him,  that  he  could  not  get  accustomed  to 
this  life  and  accept  it  as  inevitable,  that  it  displeased 
him,  and  that  it  aroused  in  him  a  calm  determination  to 
rearrange  it  after  his  own  model.  His  face  was  yel- 
lowish, with  thin,  radiate  wrinkles  around  his  eyes,  his 
voice  low,  and  his  hands  always  warm.  In  greeting  the 
4  43 


MOTHER 

mother  he  would  enfold  her  entire  hand  in  his  long,  pow- 
erful fingers,  and  after  such  a  vigorous  hand  clasp  she 
felt  more  at  ease  and  lighter  of  heart. 

Other  people  came  from  the  city,  oftenest  among  them 
a  tall,  well-built  young  girl  with  large  eyes  set  in  a  thin, 
pale  face.  She  was  called  Sashenka.  There  was  some- 
thing manly  in  her  walk  and  movements ;  she  knit  her 
thick,  dark  eyebrows  in  a  frown,  and  when  she  spoke 
the  thin  nostrils  of  her  straight  nose  quivered. 

She  was  the  first  to  say,  "  We  are  socialists !  "  Her 
voice  when  she  said  it  was  loud  and  strident. 

When  the  mother  heard  this  word,  she  stared  in  dumb 
fright  into  the  girl's  face.  But  Sashenka,  half  closing 
her  eyes,  said  sternly  and  resolutely :  "  We  must  give 
up  all  our  forces  to  the  cause  of  the  regeneration  of 
life;  we  must  realize  that  we  will  receive  no  recom- 
pense." 

The  mother  understood  that  the  socialists  had  killed 
the  Czar.  It  had  happened  in  the  days  of  her  youth ; 
and  people  had  then  said  that  the  landlords,  wishing  to 
revenge  themselves  on  the  Czar  for  liberating  the  peasant 
serfs,  had  vowed  not  to  cut  their  hair  until  the  Czar 
should  be  killed.  These  were  the  persons  who  had 
been  called  socialists.  And  now  she  could  not  under- 
stand why  it  was  that  her  son  and  his  friends  were 
socialists. 

When  they  had  all  departed,  she  asked  Pavel: 

"  Pavlusha,  are  you  a  socialist?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  standing  before  her,  straight  and  stal- 
wart as  always.     **  Why  ?  " 

The  mother  heaved  a  heavy  sigh,  and  lowering  her 
eyes,  said: 

*' So,  Pavlusha?  Why,  they  are  against  the  Czar; 
they  killed  one." 


MOTHER 

Pavel  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  ran  his  hand 
across  his  face,  and,  smiling,  said: 

"  We  don't  need  to  do  that !  " 

He  spoke  to  her  for  a  long  while  in  a  low,  serious 
voice.     She  looked  into  his  face  and  thought: 

''  He  will  do  nothing  bad ;  he  is  incapable  of  doing 
bad !  " 

And  thereafter  the  terrible  word  was  repeated  with 
increasing  frequency;  its  sharpness  wore  off,  and  it  be- 
came as  familiar  to  her  ear  as  scores  of  other  words 
unintelligible  to  her.  But  Sashenka  did  not  please  her, 
and  when  she  came  the  mother  felt  troubled  and  ill  at 
ease. 

Once  she  said  to  the  Little  Russian,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  dissatisfaction  about  the  mouth: 

"  What  a  stern  person  this  Sashenka  is !  Flings  her 
commands  around ! — You  must  do  this  and  you  must  do 
that!" 

The  Little  Russian  laughed  aloud. 

''  Well  said,  mother !  You  struck  the  nail  right  on 
the  head  !    Hey,  Pavel  ?  " 

And  with  a  wink  to  the  mother,  he  said  with  a  jovial 
gleam  in  his  eyes: 

"  You  can't  drain  the  blue  blood  out  of  a  person  even 
with  a  pump !  " 

Pavel  remarked  dryly: 

"  She  is  a  good  woman !  "    His  face  glowered. 

"  And  that's  true,  too !  "  the  Little  Russian  corrobo- 
rated. "  Only  she  does  not  understand  that  she  ought 
to " 

They  started  up  an  argument  about  something  the 
mother  did  not  understand.  The  mother  noticed,  also, 
that  Sashenka  was  most  stern  with  Pavel,  and  that  some- 
times she  even  scolded  him.     Pavel  smiled,  was  silent, 

45 


MOTHER 

and  looked  in  the  girl's  face  with  that  soft  look  he  had 
formerly  given  Natasha.  This  likewise  displeased  the 
mother. 

The  gatherings  increased  in  number,  and  began  to  be 
held  twice  a  week;  and  when  the  mother  observed  with 
what  avidity  the  young  people  listened  to  the  speeches 
of  her  son  and  the  Little  Russian,  to  the  interesting 
stories  of  Sashenka,  Natasha,  Alexey  Ivanovich,  and  the 
other  people  from  the  city,  she  forgot  her  fears  and  shook 
her  head  sadly  as  she  recalled  the  days  of  her  youth. 

Sometimes  they  sang  songs,  the  simple,  familiar  melo- 
dies, aloud  and  merrily.  But  often  they  sang  new  songs, 
the  words  and  music  in  perfect  accord,  sad  and  quaint  in 
tune.  These  they  sang  in  an  undertone,  pensively  and 
seriously  as  church  hymns  are  chanted.  Their  faces  grew 
pale,  yet  hot,  and  a  mighty  force  made  itself  felt  in 
their  ringing  words. 

*'  It  is  time  for  us  to  sing  these  songs  in  the  street," 
said  Vyesovshchikov  somberly. 

And  sometimes  the  mother  was  struck  by  the  spirit 
of  lively,  boisterous  hilarity  that  took  sudden  possession 
of  them.  It  was  incomprehensible  to  her.  It  usually 
happened  on  the  evenings  when  they  read  in  the  papers 
about  the  working  people  in  other  countries.  Then  their 
eyes  sparkled  with  bold,  animated  joy;  they  became 
strangely,  childishly  happy;  the  room  rang  with  merry 
peals  of  laughter,  and  they  struck  one  another  on  the 
shoulder  affectionately. 

**  Capital  fellows,  our  comrades  the  French  I "  cried 
some  one,  as  if  intoxicated  with  his  own  mirth. 

"  Long  live  our  comrades,  the  workingmen  of  Italy !  " 
they  shouted  another  time. 

And  sending  these  calls  into  the  remote  distance  to 
friends  who  did  not  know  them,   who  could  not  have 

46 


MOTHER 

understood  their  language,  they  seemed  to  feel  confident 
that  these  people  unknown  to  them  heard  and  compre- 
hended their  enthusiasm  and  their  ecstasy. 

The  Little  Russian  spoke,  his  eyes  beaming,  his  love 
larger  than  the  love  of  the  others: 

"  Comrades,  it  would  be  well  to  write  to  them  over 
there!  Let  them  know  that  they  have  friends  living  in 
far-away  Russia,  workingmen  who  confess  and  believe 
in  the  same  religion  as  they,  comrades  who  pursue  the 
same  aims  as  they,  and  who  rejoice  in  their  victories !  " 

And  all,  with  smiles  on  their  faces  dreamily  spoke  at 
length  of  the  Germans,  the  Italians,  the  Englishmen,  and 
the  Swedes,  of  the  working  people  of  all  countries,  as  of 
their  friends,  as  of  people  near  to  their  hearts,  whom 
without  seeing  they  loved  and  respected,  whose  joys  they 
shared,  whose  pain  they  felt. 

In  the  small  room  a  vast  feeling  was  born  of  the  uni- 
versal kinship  of  the  w^orkers  of  the  world,  at  the  same 
time  its  masters  and  its  slaves,  who  had  already  been 
freed  from  the  bondage  of  prejudice  and  who  felt  them- 
selves the  new  masters  of  life.  This  feeling  blended  all 
into  a  single  soul ;  it  moved  the  mother,  and,  although 
inaccessible  to  her,  it  straightened  and  emboldened  her, 
as  it  were,  with  its  force,  with  its  joys,  with  its  trium- 
phant, youthful  vigor,  intoxicating,  caressing,  full  of 
hope. 

"  What  queer  people  you  are ! "  said  the  mother  to 
the  Little  Russian  one  day.  "  All  are  your  comrades — 
the  Armenians  and  the  Jews  and  the  Austrians.  You 
speak  about  all  as  of  your  friends;  you  grieve  for  all, 
and  you  rejoice  for  all !  " 

"  For  all,  mother  dear,  for  all !  The  world  is  ours ! 
The  world  is  for  the  workers !  For  us  there  is  no  nation, 
no  race.    For  us  there  are  only  comrades  and  foes.    All 

47 


MOTHER 

the  workingmen  are  our  comrades;  all  the  rich,  all  the 
authorities  are  our  foes.  When  you  see  how  numerous 
we  workingmen  are,  how  tremendous  the  power  of  the 
spirit  in  us,  then  your  heart  is  seized  with  such  joy,  such 
happiness,  such  a  great  holiday  sings  in  your  bosom! 
And,  mother,  the  Frenchman  and  the  German  feel  the 
same  way  when  they  look  upon  life,  and  the  Italian  also. 
We  are  all  children  of  one  mother — the  great,  invincible 
idea  of  the  brotherhood  of  the  workers  of  all  countries 
over  all  the  earth.  This  idea  grows,  it  warms  us  like  the 
sun;  it  is  a  second  sun  in  the  heaven  of  justice,  and  this 
heaven  resides  in  the  workingman's  heart.  Whoever  he 
be,  whatever  his  name,  a  socialist  is  our  brother  in  spirit 
now  and  always,  and  through  all  the  ages  forever  and 
ever!" 

This  intoxicated  and  childish  joy,  this  bright  and  firm 
faith  came  over  the  company  more  and  more  frequently ; 
and  it  grew  ever  stronger,  ever  mightier. 

And  when  the  mother  saw  this,  she  felt  that  in  very 
truth  a  great  dazzling  light  had  been  born  into  the  world 
like  the  sun  in  the  sky  and  visible  to  her  eyes. 

On  occasions  when  his  father  had  stolen  something 
again  and  was  in  prison,  Nikolay  would  announce  to 
his  comrades :  "  Now  we  can  hold  our  meetings  at  our 
house.  The  police  will  think  us  thieves,  and  they  love 
thieves !  " 

Almost  every  evening  after  work  one  of  Pavel's  com- 
rades came  to  his  house,  read  with  him,  and  copied  some- 
thing from  the  books.  So  greatly  occupied  were  they 
that  they  hardly  even  took  the  time  to  wash.  They  ate 
their  supper  and  drank  tea  with  the  books  in  their  hands ; 
and  their  talks  became  less  and  less  intelligible  to  the 
mother. 

"  We  must  have  a  newspaper !  "  Pavel  said  frequently. 

48 


MOTHER 

Life  grew  ever  more  hurried  and  feverish ;  there  was 
a  constant  rushing  from  house  to  house,  a  passing  from 
one  book  to  another,  Hke  the  flirting  of  bees  from  flower 
to  flower. 

"  They  are  talking  about  us !  "  said  Vyesovshchikov 
once.    "  We  must  get  away  soon." 

"  What's  a  quail  for  but  to  be  caught  in  the  snare?  " 
retorted  the  Little  Russian. 

Vlasova  liked  the  Little  Russian  more  and  more. 
When  he  called  her  "  mother,"  it  was  like  a  child's  hand 
patting  her  on  the  cheek.  On  Sunday,  if  Pavel  had  no 
time,  he  chopped  wood  for  her;  once  he  came  with  a 
board  on  his  shoulder,  and  quickly  and  skillfully  replaced 
the  rotten  step  on  the  porch.  Another  time  he  repaired 
the  tottering  fence  with  just  as  little  ado.  He  whistled 
as  he  worked.  It  was  a  beautifully  sad  and  wistful 
whistle. 

Once  the  mother  said  to  the  son: 

"  Suppose  we  take  the  Little  Russian  in  as  a  boarder. 
It  will  be  better  for  both  of  you.  You  won't  have  to 
run  to  each  other  so  much !  " 

"  Why  need  you  trouble  and  crowd  yourself?  "  asked 
Pavel,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"There  you  have  it!  All  my  life  I've  had  trouble 
for  I  don't  know  what.  For  a  good  person  it's  worth 
the  while." 

"  Do  as  you  please.     If  he  comes  I'll  be  glad." 

And  the  Little  Russian  moved  into  their  home. 


CHAPTER   V 

HE  little  house  at  the  edge  of  the  village 
aroused   attention.     Its   walls   already   felt 
the    regard  of   scores   of   suspecting   eyes. 
The  motley  wings  of  rumor  hovered  rest- 
lessly above  them. 
People  tried  to  surprise  the  secret  hidden  within  the 
house  by  the  ravine.     They  peeped  into  the  windows  at 
night.     Now  and  then  somebody  would  rap  on  the  pane, 
and  quickly  take  to  his  heels  in  fright. 

Once  the  tavern  keeper  stopped  Vlasova  on  the  street. 
He  was  a  dapper  old  man,  who  always  wore  a  black  silk 
neckerchief  around  his  red,  flabby  neck,  and  a  thick, 
lilac-colored  waistcoat  of  velvet  around  his  body.  On 
his  sharp,  glistening  nose  there  always  sat  a  pair  of 
glasses  with  tortoise-shell  rims,  which  secured  him  the 
sobriquet  of  "  bony  eyes." 

In  a  single  breath  and  without  awaiting  an  answer, 
he  plied  Vlasova  with  dry,  crackling  words: 

"  How  are  you,  Pelagueya  Nilovna,  how  are  you  ? 
How  is  your  son  ?  Thinking  of  marrying  him  off,  hey  ? 
He's  a  youth  full  ripe  for  matrimony.  The  sooner  a  son 
is  married  off,  the  safer  it  is  for  his  folks.  A  man 
with  a  family  preserves  himself  better  both  in  the  spirit 
and  the  flesh.  With  a  family  he  is  like  mushrooms  in 
vinegar.  If  I  were  in  your  place  I  would  marry  him 
off.     Our  times  require  a  strict  watch  over  the  animal 

50 


MOTHER 

called  man;  people  are  beginning  to  live  in  their  brains. 
Men  have  run  amuck  with  their  thoughts,  and  they  do 
things  that  are  positively  criminal.  The  church  of  God 
is  avoided  by  the  young  folk ;  they  shun  the  public  places, 
and  assemble  in  secret  in  out-of-the-way  corners.  They 
speak  in  whispers.  Why  speak  in  whispers,  pray?  All 
this  they  don't  dare  say  before  people  in  the  tavern,  for 
example.  What  is  it,  I  ask  ?  A  secret  ?  The  secret  place 
is  our  holy  church,  as  old  as  the  apostles.  All  the  other 
secrets  hatched  in  the  corners  are  the  offspring  of  delu- 
sions.   I  wish  you  good  health." 

Raising  his  hand  in  an  affected  manner,  he  lifted  his 
cap,  and  waving  it  in  the  air,  walked  away,  leaving  the 
mother  to  her  perplexity. 

Vlasova's  neighbor,  Marya  Korsunova,  the  black- 
smith's widow,  who  sold  food  at  the  factory,  on  meeting 
the  mother  in  the  market  place  also  said  to  her: 

''  Look  out  for  your  son,  Pelagucya !  '* 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  They're  talking !  "  Marya  tendered  the  informa- 
tion in  a  hushed  voice.  "  And  they  don't  say  any  good, 
mother  of  mine !  They  speak  as  if  he's  getting  up  a  sort 
of  union,  something  like  those  Flagellants — sects,  that's 
the  name!  They'll  whip  one  another  like  the  Flagel- 
lants  " 

"  Stop  babbling  nonsense,  Marya !    Enough !  " 

"  I'm  not  babbling  nonsense !    I  talk  because  I  know." 

The  mother  communicated  all  these  conversations  to 
her  son.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  silence,  and  the 
Little  Russian  laughed  with  his  thick,  soft  laugh. 

"  The  girls  also  have  a  crow  to  pick  with  you ! "  she 
said.  "  You'd  make  enviable  bridegrooms  for  any  of 
them;  you're  all  good  workers,  and  you  don't  drink — 
but  you  don't  pay  any  attention  to  them.    Besides,  people 

51 


MOTHER 

are  saying  that  girls  of  questionable  character  come  to 
you." 

*'  Well,  of  course !  "  exclaimed  Pavel,  his  brow  con- 
tracting in  a  frown  of  disgust. 

"  In  the  bog  everything  smells  of  rottenness !  "  said 
the  Little  Russian  with  a  sigh.  "  Why  don't  you,  mother, 
explain  to  the  foolish  girls  what  it  is  to  be  married,  so 
that  they  shouldn't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  their  bones 
broken  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  mother,  "  they  see  the  misery  in 
store  for  them,  they  understand,  but  what  can  they  do? 
They  have  no  other  choice !  " 

"  It's  a  queer  way  they  have  of  understanding,  else 
they'd  find  a  choice,"  observed  Pavel. 

The  mother  looked  into  his  austere  face. 

"  Why  don't  you  teach  them  ?  Why  don't  you  invite 
some  of  the  cleverer  ones  ?  " 

"  That  won't  do !  "  the  son  replied  dryly. 

"  Suppose  we  try  ?  "  said  the  Little  Russian. 

After  a  short  silence  Pavel  said: 

"  Couples  will  be  formed ;  couples  will  w^alk  together ; 
then  some  will  get  married,  and  that's  all." 

The  mother  became  thoughtful.  Pavel's  austerity 
worried  her.  She  saw  that  his  advice  was  taken  even 
by  his  older  comrades,  such  as  the  Little  Russian ;  but 
it  seemed  to  her  that  all  were  afraid  of  him,  and  no  one 
loved  him  because  he  was  so  stern. 

Once  when  she  had  lain  down  to  sleep,  and  her  son 
and  the  Little  Russian  were  still  reading,  she  overheard 
their  low  conversation  through  the  thin  partition. 

"  You  know  I  like  Natasha,"  suddenly  ejaculated  the 
Little  Russian  in  an  undertone. 

"  T  know,"  answered  Pavel  after  a  pause. 

"  Yes !  " 

52 


MOTHER 

The  mother  heard  the  Little  Russian  rise  and  begin 
to  walk.  The  tread  of  his  bare  feet  sounded  on  the  floor, 
and  a  low,  mournful  whistle  was  heard.  Then  he  spoke 
again : 

''And  does  she  notice  it?" 

Pavel  was  silent. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  the  Little  Russian  asked,  low- 
ering his  voice. 

"  She  does,"  replied  Pavel.  "  That's  why  she  has 
refused  to  attend  our  meetings." 

The  Little  Russian  dragged  his  feet  heavily  over  the 
floor,  and  again  his  low  whistle  quivered  in  the  room. 
Then  he  asked : 

"And  if  I  tell  her?" 

"  What  ?  "  The  brief  question  shot  from  Pavel  like 
the  discharge  of  a  gun. 

"  That  I  am — "  began  the  Little  Russian  in  a  sub- 
dued voice. 

"  Why  ?  "  Pavel  interrupted. 

The  mother  heard  the  Little  Russian  stop,  and  she 
felt  that  he  smiled. 

"  Yes,  you  see,  I  consider  that  if  you  love  a  girl  you 
must  tell  her  about  it ;  else  there'll  be  no  sense  to  it !  " 

Pavel  clapped  the  book  shut  with  a  bang. 

"  And  what  sense  do  you  expect  ?  " 

Both  were  silent  for  a  long  while. 

"Well?"  asked  the  Little  Russian. 

"  You  must  be  clear  in  your  mind,  Audrey,  as  to  what 
you  want  to  do,"  said  Pavel  slowly.  "  Let  us  assume 
that  she  loves  you,  too — I  do  not  think  so,  but  let  us 
assume  it.  Well,  you  get  married.  An  interesting  union 
— the  intellectual  with  the  workingman !  Children  come 
along;  you  will  have  to  work  all  by  yourself  and  very 
hard.    Your  life  will  become  the  ordinary  life  of  a  strug- 

53 


MOTHER 

gle  for  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  shelter  for  yourself  and 
children.  For  the  cause,  you  will  become  nonexistent, 
both  of  you !  " 

Silence  ensued.  Then  Pavel  began  to  speak  again  in 
a  voice  that  sounded  softer : 

"  You  had  better  drop  all  this,  Audrey.  Keep  quiet, 
and  don't  worry  her.    That's  the  more  honest  way." 

"  And  do  you  remember  what  Alexey  Ivanovich  said 
about  the  necessity  for  a  man  to  live  a  complete  life — 
with  all  the  power  of  his  soul  and  body — do  you  re- 
member ?  " 

"  That's  not  for  us  !  How  can  you  attain  completion  ? 
It  does  not  exist  for  you.  If  you  love  the  future  you 
must  renounce  everything  in  the  present — everything, 
brother!" 

"  That's  hard  for  a  man !  "  said  the  Little  Russian  in 
a  lowered  voice. 

"  What  else  can  be  done  ?    Think  !  " 

The  indifferent  pendulum  of  the  clock  kept  chopping 
off  the  seconds  of  life,  calmly  and  precisely.  At  last  the 
Little  Russian  said : 

"  Half  the  heart  loves,  and  the  other  half  hates !  Is 
that  a  heart  ?  " 

"I  ask  you,  what  else  can  we  do?" 

The  pages  of  a  book  rustled.  Apparently  Pavel  had 
begun  to  read  again.  The  mother  lay  with  closed  eyes, 
and  was  afraid  to  stir.  She  was  ready  to  weep  with 
pity  for  the  Little  Russian ;  but  she  was  grieved  still  more 
for  her  son. 

"  My  dear  son !    My  consecrated  one  !  "  she  thought. 

Suddenly  the  Little  Russian  asked: 

**  So  I  am  to  keep  quiet  ?  " 

"  That's  more  honesty  Audrey,"  answered  Pavel 
softly. 

54 


MOTHER 

"  All  right !  That's  the  road  we  will  travel."  And 
in  a  few  seconds  he  added,  in  a  sad  and  subdued  voice: 
"  It  will  be  hard  for  you,  Pasha,  when  you  get  to  that 
yourself." 

*'  It  is  hard  for  me  already." 

"Yes?" 
-     "Yes." 

The  wind  brushed  along  the  walls  of  the  house,  and 
the  pendulum  marked  the  passing  time. 

"  Um,"  said  the  Little  Russian  leisurely,  at  last. 
"That's  too  bad." 

The  mother  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow  and  wept 
inaudibly. 

In  the  morning  Audrey  seemed  to  her  to  be  lower 
in  stature  and  all  the  more  winning.  But  her  son  tow- 
ered thin,  straight,  and  taciturn  as  ever.  She  had  always 
called  the  Little  Russian  Audrey  Stepanovich,  in  formal 
address,  but  now,  all  at  once,  involuntarily  and  uncon- 
sciously she  said  to  him: 

"  Say,  Andriusha,  you  had  better  get  your  boots 
mended.    You  are  apt  to  catch  cold." 

"  On  pay  day,  mother,  I'll  buy  myself  a  new  pair," 
he  answered,  smiling.  Then  suddenly  placing  his  long 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  he  added :  "  You  know,  you  are 
my  real  mother.  Only  you  don't  want  to  acknowledge 
it  to  people  because  I  am  so  ugly." 

She  patted  him  on  the  hand  without  speaking.  She 
would  have  liked  to  say  many  endearing  things,  but  her 
heart  was  wrung  with  pity,  and  the  words  v/ould  not 
leave  her  tongue. 

They  spoke  in  the  village  about  the  socialists  who 
distributed  broadcast  leaflets  in  blue  ink.  In  these  leaflets 
the  conditions  prevailing  in  the  factory  were  trenchantly 

55 


MOTHER 

and  pointedly  depicted,  as  well  as  the  strikes  in  St.  Peters- 
burg and  southern  Russia ;  and  the  workingmen  were 
called  upon  to  unite  and  fight  for  their  interests. 

The  staid  people  who  earned  good  pay  waxed  wroth 
as  they  read  the  literature,  and  said  abusively :  "  Breeders 
of  rebellion !  For  such  business  they  ought  to  get  their 
eyes  blacked."  And  they  carried  the  pamphlets  to  the 
office. 

The  young  people  read  the  proclamations  eagerly,  and 
said  excitedly :  "  It's  all  true  !  " 

The  majority,  broken  down  with  their  work,  and  in- 
different to  everything,  said  lazily :  "  Nothing  will  come 
of  it.    It  is  impossible !  " 

But  the  leaflets  made  a  stir  among  the  people,  and 
when  a  week  passed  without  their  getting  any,  they  said 
to  one  another: 

"  None  again  to-day !  It  seems  the  printing  must 
have  stopped." 

Then  on  Monday  the  leaflets  appeared  again;  and 
again  there  was  a  dull  buzz  of  talk  among  the  work- 
ingmen. 

In  the  taverns  and  the  factory  strangers  were  noticed, 
men  whom  no  one  knew.  They  asked  questions,  scru- 
tinized everything  and  everybody;  looked  around,  fer- 
reted about,  and  at  once  attracted  universal  attention, 
some  by  their  suspicious  watchfulness,  others  by  their 
excessive  obtrusiveness. 

The  mother  knew  that  all  this  commotion  was  due  to 
the  work  of  her  son  Pavel.  She  saw  how  all  the  people 
were  drawn  together  about  him.  He  was  not  alone,  and 
therefore  it  was  not  so  dangerous.  But  pride  in  her  son 
mingled  with  her  apprehension  for  his  fate;  it  was  his 
secret  labors  that  discharged  themselves  in  fresh  cur- 
rents into  the  narrow,  turbid  stream  of  life. 

56 


MOTHMR 

One  evening  Marya  Korsunova  rapped  at  the  window 
from  the  street,  and  when  the  mother  opened  it,  she  said 
in  a  loud  whisper : 

"  Now,  take  care,  Pelagueya ;  the  boys  have  gotten 
themselves  into  a  nice  mess !  It's  been  decided  to  make 
a  search  to-night  in  your  house,  and  Mazin's  and  Vye- 
sovshchikov's " 

The  mother  heard  only  the  beginning  of  the  woman's 
talk ;  all  the  rest  of  the  words  flowed  together  in  one 
stream  of  ill-boding,  hoarse  sounds. 

Marya's  thick  lips  flapped  hastily  one  against  the 
other.  Snorts  issued  from  her  fleshy  nose,  her  eyes 
blinked  and  turned  from  side  to  side  as  if  on  the  lookout 
for  somebody  in  the  street. 

"  And,  mark  you,  I  do  not  know  anything,  and  I  did 
not  say  anything  to  you,  mother  dear,  and  did  not  even 
see  you  to-day,  you  understand  ?  " 

Then  she  disappeared. 

The  mother  closed  the  window  and  slowly  dropped 
on  a  chair,  her  strength  gone  from  her,  her  brain  a 
desolate  void.  But  the  consciousness  of  the  danger 
threatening  her  son  quickly  brought  her  to  her  feet  again. 
She  dressed  hastily,  for  some  reason  wrapped  her  shawl 
tightly  around  her  head,  and  ran  to  Fedya  Mazin,  who, 
she  knew,  was  sick  and  not  working.  She  found  him 
sitting  at  the  window  reading  a  book,  and  moving  his 
right  hand  to  and  fro  with  his  left,  his  thumb  spread  out. 
On  learning  the  news  he  jumped  up  nervously,  his  lips 
trembled,  and  his  face  paled. 

"There  you  are!  And  I  have  an  abscess  on  my 
finger !  "  he  mumbled. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  asked  Vlasova,  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  her  face  with  a  hand  that  trembled 
nervously. 

57 


MOTHMR 

"  Wait  a  while !  Don't  be  afraid,"  answered  Fedya, 
running  his  sound  hand  through  his  curly  hair. 

"  But  you  are  afraid  yourself !  " 

'*  I  ?  "  He  reddened  and  smiled  in  embarrassment. 
"  Yes — h-m —  I  had  a  fit  of  cowardice,  the  devil  take 
it!  We  must  let  Pavel  know.  I'll  send  my  little  sister 
to  him.  You  go  home.  Never  mind!  They're  not 
going  to  beat  us." 

On  returning  home  she  gathered  together  all  the 
books,  and  pressing  them  to  her  bosom  walked  about 
the  house  for  a  long  time,  looking  into  the  oven,  under 
the  oven,  into  the  pipe  of  the  samovar,  and  even  into  the 
water  vat.  She  thought  Pavel  would  at  once  drop  work 
and  come  home;  but  he  did  not  come.  Finally  she  sat 
down  exhausted  on  the  bench  in  the  kitchen,  putting  the 
books  under  her ;  and  she  remained  in  that  position,  afraid 
to  rise,  until  Pavel  and  the  Little  Russian  returned  from 
the  factory. 

"  Do  you  know  ?  "  she  exclaimed  without  rising. 

"  We  know !  "  said  Pavel  with  a  composed  smile. 
"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Pm  so  afraid,  so  afraid !  '* 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,"  said  the  Little  Russian. 
"  That  won't  help  anybody." 

"  Didn't  even  prepare  the  samovar,"  remarked  Pavel. 

The  mother  rose,  and  pointed  to  the  books  with  a 
guilty  air. 

*'  You  see,  it  was  on  account  of  them — all  the  time — 
I  was " 

The  son  and  the  Little  Russian  burst  into  laughter; 
and  this  relieved  her.  Then  Pavel  picked  out  some  books 
and  carried  them  out  into  the  yard  to  hide  them,  while 
the  Little  Russian  remained  to  prepare  the  samovar. 

"  There's  nothing  terrible  at  all  in  this,  mother.     It's 

58 


MOTHER 

only  a  shame  for  people  to  occupy  themselves  with  such 
nonsense.  Grown-up  men  in  gray  come  in  with  sabers 
at  their  sides,  with  spurs  on  their  feet,  and  rummage 
around,  and  dig  up  and  search  everything.  They  look 
under  the  bed,  and  climb  up  to  the  garret;  if  there  is  a 
cellar  they  crawl  down  into  it.  The  cobwebs  get  on 
their  faces,  and  they  puff  and  snort.  They  are  bored 
and  ashamed.  That's  why  they  put  on  the  appearance  of 
being  very  wicked  and  very  mad  with  us.  It's  dirty  work, 
and  they  understand  it,  of  course  they  do!  Once  they 
turned  everything  topsy-turvy  in  my  place,  and  went 
away  abashed,  that's  all.  Another  time  they  took  me 
along  with  them.  Well,  they  put  me  in  prison,  and  I 
stayed  there  with  them  for  about  four  months.  You 
sit  and  sit,  then  you're  called  out,  taken  to  the  street 
under  an  escort  of  soldiers,  and  you're  asked  certain 
questions.  They're  stupid  people,  they  talk  such  inco- 
herent stuff.  When  they're  done  with  you,  they  tell  the 
soldiers  to  take  you  back  to  prison.  So  they  lead  you 
here,  and  they  lead  you  there — they've  got  to  justify 
their  salaries  somehow.  And  then  they  let  you  go  free. 
That's  all." 

"  How  you  always  do  speak,  Andriusha !  "  exclaimed 
the  mother  involuntarily. 

Kneeling  before  the  samovar  he  diligently  blew  into 
the  pipe;  but  presently  he  turned  his  face,  red  with  ex- 
ertion, toward  her,  and  smoothing  his  mustache  with  both 
hands  inquired : 

"  And  how  do  I  speak,  pray  ?  " 
"  As  if  nobody  had  ever  done  you  any  wrong.* 
He  rose,  approached  her,  and  shaking  his  head,  said : 
"  Is  there  an  unwronged  soul  anywhere  in  the  wide 
world?    But  I  have  been  wronged  so  much  that  I  have 
ceased  to  feel  wronged.     What's  to  be  done  if  people 
5  59 


MOTHER 

cannot  help  acting  as  they  do?  The  wrongs  I  undergo 
hinder  me  greatly  in  my  work.  It  is  impossible  to  avoid 
them.  But  to  stop  and  pay  attention  to  them  is  useless 
waste  of  time.  Such  a  life!  Formerly  I  would  occa- 
sionally get  angry — but  I  thought  to  myself:  all  around 
me  I  see  people  broken  in  heart.  It  seemed  as  if  each 
one  were  afraid  that  his  neighbor  would  strike  him,  and 
so  he  tried  to  get  ahead  and  strike  the  other  first.  Such 
a  life  it  is,  mother  dear." 

His  speech  flowed  on  serenely.  He  resolutely  dis- 
tracted her  mind  from  alarm  at  the  expected  police 
search.  His  luminous,  protuberant  eyes  smiled  sadly. 
Though  ungainly,  he  seemed  made  of  stuff  that  bends 
but  never  breaks. 

The  mother  sighed  and  uttered  the  warm  wish : 
"  May  God  grant  you  happiness,  Andriusha !  " 
The  Little  Russian  stalked  to  the  samovar  with  long 
strides,  sat  in  front  of  it  again  on  his  heels,  and  mum- 
bled: 

"  If  he  gives  me  happiness,  I  will  not  decline  it;  ask 
for  it  I  won't,  to  seek  it  I  have  no  time." 
And  he  began  to  whistle. 

Pavel  came  in  from  the  yard  and  said  confidently: 
"  They  won't  find  them !  "  He  started  to  wash  him- 
self. Then  carefully  rubbing  his  hands  dry,  he  added: 
**  If  you  show  them,  mother,  that  you  are  frightened, 
they  will  think  there  must  be  something  in  this  house 
because  you  tremble.  And  we  have  done  nothing  as  yet, 
nothing !  You  know  that  we  don't  want  anything  bad ; 
on  our  side  is  truth,  and  we  will  work  for  it  all  our 
lives.  This  is  our  entire  guilt.  Why,  then,  need  we 
fear?" 

"  I  will  pull  myself  together,  Pasha !  "  she  assured 
him.     And  the  next  moment,  unable  to  repress  her  anx- 

60 


MOTHER 

iety,  she  exclaimed :    "  I  wish  they'd  come  soon,  and  it 
would  all  be  over !  " 

But  they  did  not  come  that  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing, in  anticipation  of  the  fun  that  would  probably  be 
poked  at  her  for  her  alarm,  the  mother  began  to  joke 
at  herself. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HE  searchers  appeared  at  the  very  time  they 
were  not  expected,  nearly  a  month  after  this 
anxious  night.  Nikolay  Vyesovshchikov 
was  at  Pavel's  house  talking  with  him  and 
Andrey  about  their  newspaper.  It  was 
late,  about  midnight.  The  mother  was  already  in  bed. 
Half  awake,  half  asleep,  she  listened  to  the  low,  busy 
voices.  Presently  Andrey  got  up  and  carefully  picked 
his  way  through  and  out  of  the  kitchen,  quietly  shutting 
the  door  after  him.  The  noise  of  the  iron  bucket  was 
heard  on  the  porch.  Suddenly  the  door  was  flung  wide 
open;  the  Little  Russian  entered  the  kitchen,  and  an- 
nounced in  a  loud  whisper: 

*'  I  hear  the  jingling  of  spurs  in  the  street!  " 

The  mother  jumped  out  of  bed,  catching  at  her  dress 
with  a  trembling  hand ;  but  Pavel  came  to  the  door  and 
said  calmly: 

"  You  stay  in  bed ;  you're  not  feeling  well." 

A  cautious,  stealthy  sound  was  heard  on  the  porch. 
Pavel  went  to  the  door  and  knocking  at  it  with  his  hand 
asked : 

"Who's  there? '^ 

A  tall,  gray  figure  tumultuously  precipitated  itself 
through  the  doorway;  after  it  another;  two  gendarmes 
pushed  Pavel  back,  and  stationed  themselves  on  either 
side  of  him,  and  a  loud  mocking  voice  called  out: 

**  No  one  you  expect,  eh?  " 

62 


MOTHER 

The  words  came  from  a  tall,  lank  officer,  with  a  thin, 
black  mustache.  The  village  policeman,  Fedyakin,  ap- 
peared at  the  bedside  of  the  mother,  and,  raising  one 
hand  to  his  cap,  pointed  the  other  at  her  face  and,  making 
terrible  eyes,  said: 

"  This  is  his  mother,  your  honor !  "  Then,  waving 
his  hand  toward  Pavel :  "  And  this  is  he  himself." 

"Pavel  Vlasov?"  inquired  the  officer,  screwing  up 
his  eyes;  and  when  Pavel  silently  nodded  his  head,  he 
announced,  twirhng  his  mustache : 

"  I  have  to  make  a  search  in  your  house.  Get  up, 
old  woman !  " 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  suddenly  and 
making  a  dash  for  the  door. 

**  Your  name  ?  "  His  voice  was  heard  from  the  other 
room. 

Two  other  men  came  in  from  the  porch:  the  old 
smelter  Tveryakov  and  his  lodger,  the  stoker  Rybin,  a 
staid,  dark-colored  peasant.  He  said  in  a  thick,  loud 
voice : 

"  Good  evening,  Nilovna." 

She  dressed  herself,  all  the  while  speaking  to  herself 
in  a  low  voice,  so  as  to  give  herself  courage : 

"  What  sort  of  a  thing  is  this  ?  They  come  at  night. 
People  are  asleep  and  they  come " 

The  room  was  close,  and  for  some  reason  smelled 
strongly  of  shoe  blacking.  Two  gendarmes  and  the  vil- 
lage police  commissioner,  Ryskin,  their  heavy  tread  re- 
sounding on  the  floor,  removed  the  books  from  the  shelves 
and  put  them  on  the  table  before  the  officer.  Two  others 
rapped  on  the  walls  with  their  fists,  and  looked  under 
the  chairs.  One  man  clumsily  clambered  up  on  the  stove 
in  the  corner.  Nikolay's  pockmarked  face  became  cov- 
ered  with   red   patches,    and   his   little   gray   eyes   were 

63 


MOTHER 

Steadfastly  fixed  upon  the  officer.  The  Little  Russian 
curled  his  mustache,  and  when  the  mother  entered  the 
room,  he  smiled  and  gave  her  an  affectionate  nod  of  the 
head. 

Striving  to  suppress  her  fear,  she  walked,  not  side- 
ways as  always,  but  erect,  her  chest  thrown  out,  which 
gave  her  figure  a  droll,  stilted  air  of  importance.  Her 
shoes  made  a  knocking  sound  on  the  floor,  and  her  brows 
trembled. 

The  officer  quickly  seized  the  books  with  the  long 
fingers  of  his  white  hand,  turned  over  the  pages,  shook 
them,  and  with  a  dexterous  movement  of  the  wrist  flung 
them  aside.  Sometimes  a  book  fell  to  the  floor  with  a 
light  thud.  All  were  silent.  The  heavy  breathing  of 
the  perspiring  gendarmes  was  audible ;  the  spurs  clanked, 
and  sometimes  the  low  question  was  heard :  "  Did  you 
look  here  ?  " 

The  mother  stood  by  Pavel's  side  against  the  wall. 
She  folded  her  arms  over  her  bosom,  like  her  son,  and 
both  regarded  the  officer.  The  mother  felt  her  knees 
trembling,  and  her  eyes  became  covered  with  a  dry  mist. 

Suddenly  the  piercing  voice  of  Nikolay  cut  into  the 
silence : 

"  Why  is  it  necessary  to  throw  the  books  on  the 
floor?" 

The  mother  trembled.  Tveryakov  rocked  his  head 
as  if  he  had  been  struck  on  the  back.  Rybin  uttered 
a  peculiar  cluck,  and  regarded  Nikolay  attentively. 

The  officer  threw  up  his  head,  screwed  up  his  eyes^ 
and  fixed  them  for  a  second  upon  the  pockmarked,  mot- 
tled, immobile  face.  His  fingers  began  to  turn  the  leaves 
of  the  books  still  more  rapidly.  His  face  was  yellow  and 
pale ;  he  twisted  his  lips  continually.  At  times  he  opened 
his  large  gray  eyes  wide,  as  if  he  suffered  from  an  in- 

64 


MOTHER 

tolerable  pain,  and  was  ready  to  scream  out  in  impotent 
anguish. 

"  Soldier !  "  Vyesovshchikov  called  out  again.  "  Pick 
the  books  up !  " 

All  the  gendarmes  turned  their  eyes  on  him,  then 
looked  at  the  officer.  He  again  raised  his  head,  and 
taking  in  the  broad  figure  of  Nikolay  with  a  searching 
stare,  he  drawled: 

"  Well,  well,  pick  up  the  books." 

One  gendarme  bent  down,  and,  looking  slantwise  at 
Vyesovshchikov,  began  to  collect  the  books  scattered  on 
the  floor. 

"  Why  doesn't  Nikolay  keep  quiet  ?  "  the  mother  whis- 
pered to  Pavel.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  Little 
Russian  drooped  his  head. 

"What's  the  whispering  there?  Silence,  please! 
Who  reads  the  Bible?" 

"  I !  "  said  Pavel. 

''  Aha !    And  whose  books  are  all  these  ?  " 

"  Mine !  "  answered  Pavel. 

"  So !  "  exclaimed  the  officer,  throwing  himself  on  the 
back  of  the  chair.  He  made  the  bones  of  his  slender 
hand  crack,  stretched  his  legs  under  the  table,  and  ad- 
justing his  mustache,  asked  Nikolay:  "Are  you  Audrey 
Nakhodka?" 

"  Yes  !  "  answered  Nikolay,  moving  forward.  The 
Little  Russian  put  out  his  hand,  took  him  by  the  shoul- 
der, and  pulled  him  back. 

"  He  made  a  mistake ;  I  am  Audrey !  " 

The  officer  raised  his  hand,  and  threatening  Vyesovsh- 
chikov with  his  little  finger,  said: 

"  Take  care !  " 

He  began  to  search  among  his  papers.  From  the 
street  the  bright,  moonlit  night  looked  on  through  the 

6S 


MOTHER 

window  with  soulless  eyes.  Some  one  was  loafing  about 
outside  the  window,  and  the  snow  crunched  under  his 
tread. 

*'  You,  Nakhodka,  you  have  been  searched  for  polit- 
ical offenses  before  ?  "  asked  the  officer. 

*'  Yes,  I  was  searched  in  Rostov  and  Saratov.  Only 
there  the  gendarmes  addressed  me  as  *  Mr.'  " 

The  officer  winked  his  right  eye,  rubbed  it,  and  show- 
ing his  fine  teeth,  said : 

"  And  do  you  happen  to  know,  Mr.  Nakhodka — yes, 
you,  Mr.  Nakhodka — who  those  scoundrels  are  who  dis- 
tribute criminal  proclamations  and  books  in  the  factory, 
eh?" 

The  Little  Russian  swayed  his  body,  and  with  a  broad 
smile  on  his  face  was  about  to  say  something,  when  the 
irritating  voice  of  Nikolay  again  rang  out : 

"  This  is  the  first  time  we  have  seen  scoundrels  here !  " 

Silence  ensued.  There  was  a  moment  of  breathless 
suspense.  The  scar  on  the  mother's  face  whitened,  and 
her  right  eyebrow  traveled  upward.  Rybin's  black  beard 
quivered  strangely.  He  dropped  his  eyes,  and  slowly 
scratched  one  hand  with  the  other. 

"  Take  this  dog  out  of  here !  "  said  the  officer. 

Two  gendarmes  seized  Nikolay  under  the  arm  and 
rudely  pulled  him  into  the  kitchen.  There  he  planted 
his  feet  firmly  on  the  floor  and  shouted: 

"  Stop !     I  am  going  t6  put  my  coat  on." 

The  police  commissioner  came  in  from  the  yard  and 
said: 

"  There  is  nothing  out  there.  We  searched  every- 
where !  " 

"  Well,  of  course !  "  exclaimed  the  officer,  laughing. 
"  I  knew  it !  There's  an  experienced  man  here,  it  goes 
without  saying." 

66 


MOTHER 

The  mother  listened  to  his  thin,  dry  voice,  and  look- 
ing with  terror  into  the  yellow  face,  felt  an  enemy  in  this 
man,  an  enemy  without  pity,  with  a  heart  full  of  aristo- 
cratic disdain  of  the  people.  Formerly  she  had  but  rarely 
seen  such  persons,  and  now  she  had  almost^  forgotten 
they  existed. 

"  Then  this  is  the  man  whom  Pavel  and  his  friends 
have  provoked,"  she  thought. 

"  I  place  you,  Mr.  Audrey  Onisimov  Nakhodka,  un- 
der arrest." 

"  What  for  ?  "  asked  the  Little  Russian  composedly. 

"  I  will  tell  you  later !  "  answered  the  officer  with 
spiteful  civility,  and  turning  to  Vlasova,  he  shouted: 

"  Say,  can  you  read  or  write  ?  " 

"  No !  "  answered  Pavel. 

"  I  didn't  ask  you !  "  said  the  officer  sternly,  and  re- 
peated :  ''  Say,  old  woman,  can  you  read  or  write  ?  " 

The  mother  involuntarily  gave  way  to  a  feeling  of 
hatred  for  the  man.  She  was  seized  with  a  sudden  fit 
of  trembling,  as  if  she  had  jumped  into  cold  water.  She 
straightened  herself,  her  scar  turned  purple,  and  her  brow 
drooped  low. 

"  Don't  shout ! "  she  said,  flinging  out  her  hand 
toward  him.  "  You  are  a  young  man  still ;  you  don't 
know  misery  or  sorrow " 

"  Calm  yourself,  mother !  "  Pavel  intervened. 

"  In  this  business,  mother,  you've  got  to  take  your 
heart  between  your  teeth  and  hold  it  there  tight,"  said 
the  Little  Russian. 

"  Wait  a  moment.  Pasha !  "  cried  the  mother,  rushing 
to  the  table  and  then  addressing  the  officer :  "  Why  do 
you  snatch  people  away  thus?" 

"  That  .does  not  concern  you.  Silence !  "  shouted  the 
officer,  rising. 

67 


MOTHER 

"  Bring  in  the  prisoner  Vyesovshchikov !  '*  he  com- 
manded, and  began  to  read  aloud  a  document  which  he 
raised  to  his  face. 

Nikolay  was  brought  into  the  room. 

"  Hats  off ! "  shouted  the  officer,  interrupting  his 
reading. 

Rybin  went  up  to  Vlasova,  and  patting  her  on  the 
back,  said  in  an  undertone: 

"  Don't  get  excited,  mother !  " 

"  How  can  I  take  my  hat  off  if  they  hold  my  hands?  " 
asked  Nikolay,  drowning  the  reading. 

The  officer  flung  the  paper  on  the  table. 

"  Sign !  "  he  said  curtly. 

The  mother  saw  how  everyone  signed  the  document, 
and  her  excitement  died  down,  a  softer  feeling  taking 
possession  of  her  heart.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears — 
burning  tears  of  insult  and  impotence — such  tears  she 
had  wept  for  twenty  years  of  her  married  life,  but  lately 
she  had  almost  forgotten  their  acid,  heart-corroding  taste. 

The  officer  regarded  her  contemptuously.  He  scowled 
and  remarked : 

"  You  bawl  ahead  of  time,  my  lady !  Look  out,  or 
you  won't  have  tears  left  for  the  future !  " 

"  A  mother  has  enough  tears  for  everything,  every- 
thing!   If  you  have  a  mother,  she  knows  it!  " 

The  officer  hastily  put  the  papers  into  his  new  port- 
folio with  its  shining  lock. 

"  How  independent  they  all  are  in  your  place !  "  He 
turned  to  the  police  commissioner. 

"  An  impudent  pack !  "  mumbled  the  commissioner. 

"  March  !  "  commanded  the  officer. 

"  Good-by,  Audrey !  Good-by,  Nikolay !  "  said  Pavel 
warmly  and  softly,  pressing  his  comrades'  hands. 

"  That's  it !  Until  we  meet  again !  "  the  officer  scoffed. 
68 


MOTHER 

Vyesovshchlkov  silently  pressed  Pavel's  hands  with  his 
short  fingers  and  breathed  heavily.  The  blood  mounted 
to  his  thick  neck ;  his  eyes  flashed  with  rancor.  The  Little 
Russian's  face  beamed  with  a  sunny  smile.  He  nodded 
his  head,  and  said  something  to  the  mother ;  she  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  over  him. 

'*  God  sees  the  righteous,"  she  murmured. 

At  length  the  throng  of  people  in  the  gray  coats  tum- 
bled out  on  the  porch,  and  their  spurs  jingled  as  they 
disappeared.  Rybin  went  last.  He  regarded  Pavel  with 
an  attentive  look  of  his  dark  eyes  and  said  thoughtfully : 
"  Well,  well — good-by !  "  and  coughing  in  his  beard  he 
leisurely  walked  out  on  the  porch. 

Folding  his  hands  behind  his  back,  Pavel  slowly  paced 
up  and  down  the  room,  stepping  over  the  books  and 
clothes  tumbled  about  on  the  floor.  At  last  he  said  som- 
berly : 

"  You  see  how  it's  done !  With  insult — disgustingly 
— yes!     They  left  me  behind." 

Looking  perplexedly  at  the  disorder  in  the  room,  the 
mother  whispered  sadly: 

*'  They  will  take  you,  too,  be  sure  they  will.  Why 
did  Nikolay  speak  to  them  the  way  he  did  ?  " 

"  He  got  frightened,  I  suppose,"  said  Pavel  quietly. 
^'  Yes —  It's  impossible  to  speak  to  them,  absolutely  im- 
possible !     They  cannot  understand !  " 

"  They  came,  snatched,  and  carried  off !  "  mumbled 
the  mother,  waving  her  hands.  As  her  son  remained  at 
home,  her  heart  began  to  beat  more  lightly.  Her  mind 
stubbornly  halted  before  one  fact  and  refused  to  be 
moved.  "  How  he  scoffs  at  us,  that  yellow  ruffian !  How 
he  threatens  us !  " 

"  All  right,  mamma !  "  Pavel  suddenly  said  with  reso- 
lution.   "  Let  us  pick  all  this  up !  " 

69 


MOTHER 

He  called  her  "  mamma,"  the  word  he  used  only  when 
he  came  nearer  to  her.  She  approached  him,  looked  into 
his  face,  and  asked  softly: 

"Did  they  insult  you?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  That's — hard !  I  would 
rather  have  gone  with  them." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  saw  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
wishing  to  soothe  him,  with  an  indistinct  sense  of  his 
pain,  she  said  with  a  sigh: 

"  Wait  a  while— they'll  take  you,  too !  " 

"  They  will !  "  he  replied. 

After  a  pause  the  mother  remarked  sorrowfully : 

"  How  hard  you  are,  Pasha !  If  you'd  only  reassure 
me  once  in  a  while !  But  you  don't.  When  I  say  some- 
thing horrible,  you  say  something  worse." 

He  looked  at  her,  moved  closer  to  her,  and  said  gently : 

"  I  cannot,  mamma !  I  cannot  lie !  You  have  to  get 
used  to  it." 


CHAPTER   VII 

'HE  next  day  they  knew  that  Bukin,  Samoy- 
lov,  Somov,  and  five  more  had  been  arrested. 
In  the  evening  Fedya  Mazin  came  running 
in  upon  them.    A  search  had  been  made  in 
his  house  also.    He  felt  himself  a  hero. 
"  Were  you  afraid,  Fedya?  "  asked  the  mother. 
He  turned  pale,  his  face  sharpened,  and  his  nostrils 
quivered. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  officer  might  strike  me.  He  has 
a  black  beard,  he's  stout,  his  fingers  are  hairy,  and  he 
wears  dark  glasses,  so  that  he  looks  as  if  he  were  without 
eyes.  He  shouted  and  stamped  his  feet.  He  said  I'd 
rot  in  prison.  And  I've  never  been  beaten  either  by  my 
father  or  mother;  they  love  me  because  I'm  their  only 
son.     Everyone  gets  beaten  everywhere,  but  I  never ! " 

He  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  compressed  his  lips, 
tossed  his  hair  back  with  a  quick  gesture  of  both  hands, 
and  looking  at  Pavel  with  reddening  eyes,  said: 

"  If  anybody  ever  strikes  me,  I  will  thrust  my  whole 
body  into  him  like  a  knife — I  will  bite  my  teeth  into  him 
— I'd  rather  he'd  kill  me  at  once  and  be  done ! " 

"  To  defend  yourself  is  your  right,"  said  Pavel.  "  But 
take  care  not  to  attack !  " 

*'  You  are  delicate  and  thin,"  observed  the  mother. 
"What  do  you  want  with  fighting?" 

"  I  will  fight !  "  answered  Fedya  in  a  low  voiqe. 
71 


MOTHER 

When  he  left,  the  mother  said  to  Pavel : 

"  This  young  man  will  go  down  sooner  than  all  the 
rest." 

Pavel  was  silent. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  kitchen  door  opened  slowly 
and  Rybin  entered. 

"  Good  evening !  "  he  said,  smiling.  "  Here  I  am 
again.  Yesterday  they  brought  me  here;  to-day  I  come 
of  my  own  accord.  Yes,  yes !  "  He  gave  Pavel  a  vigor- 
ous handshake,  then  put  his  hand  on  the  mother's  shoul- 
der, and  asked:  "Will  you  give  me  tea?" 

Pavel  silently  regarded  his  swarthy,  broad  counte- 
nance, his  thick,  black  beard,  and  dark,  intelligent  eyes. 
A  certain  gravity  spoke  out  of  their  calm  gaze ;  his  stal- 
wart figure  inspired  confidence. 

The  mother  went  into  the  kitchen  to  prepare  the 
samovar.  Rybin  sat  down,  stroked  his  beard,  and  plac- 
ing his  elbows  on  the  table,  scanned  Pavel  with  his  dark 
look. 

"  That's  the  way  it  is,"  he  said,  as  if  continuing  an 
interrupted  conversation.  "  I  must  have  a  frank  talk  with 
you.  I  observed  you  long  before  I  came.  We  live  al- 
most next  door  to  each  other.  I  see  rnany  people  come 
to  you,  and  no  drunkenness,  no  carrying  on.  That's  the 
main  thing.  If  people  don't  raise  the  devil,  they  imme- 
diately attract  attention.  What's  that?  There  you  are! 
That's  why  all  eyes  are  on  me,  because  I  live  apart  and 
give  no  offense." 

His  speech  flowed  along  evenly  and  freely.  It  had 
a  ring  that  won  him  confidence. 

"  So.  Everybody  prates  about  you.  My  masters  call 
you  a  heretic;  you  don't  go  to  church.  I  don't,  either. 
Then  the  papers  appeared,  those  leaflets.  Was  it  you 
that  thought  them  out  ?  " 

72 


MOTHER 

"  Yes,  I ! "  answered  Pavel,  without  taking  his  eyes 
off  Rybin's  face.  Rybin  also  looked  steadily  into  Pavel's 
eyes. 

"  You  alone !  "  exclaimed  the  mother,  coming  into  the 
room.     "  It  wasn't  you  alone." 

Pavel  smiled;  Rybin  also. 

The  mother  sniffed,  and  walked  away,  somewhat  of- 
fended because  they  did  not  pay  attention  to  her  words. 

''  Those  leaflets  are  well  thought  out.  They  stir  the 
people  up.    There  were  twelve  of  them,  weren't  there?" 

"  Yes," 

"  I  have  read  them  all !  Yes,  yes.  Sometimes  they 
are  not  clear,  and  some  things  are  superfluous.  But 
when  a  man  speaks  a  great  deal,  it's  natural  he  should 
occasionally  say  things  out  of  the  way." 

Rybin  smiled.    His  teeth  were  white  and  strong. 

"  Then  the  search.  That  won  me  over  to  you  more 
than  anything  else.  You  and  the  Little  Russian  and 
Nikolay,  you  all  got  caught !  "  He  paused  for  the  right 
word  and  looked  at  the  window,  rapping  the  table  with 
his  fingers.  "  They  discovered  your  resolve.  You  attend 
to  your  business,  your  honor,  you  say,  and  we'll  attend 
to  ours.  The  Little  Russian's  a  fine  fellow,  too.  The 
other  day  I  heard  how  he  speaks  in  the  factory,  and 
thinks  I  to  myself:  that  man  isn't  going  to  be  van- 
quished ;  it's  only  one  thing  will  knock  him  out,  and  that's 
death !    A  sturdy  chap !     Do  you  trust  me,  Pavel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  trust  you !  "  said  Pavel,  nodding. 

"  That's  right.  Look !  I  am  forty  years  old ;  I  am 
twice  as  old  as  you,  and  I've  seen  twenty  times  as  much 
as  you.  For  three  years  long  I  wore  my  feet  to  the 
bone  marching  in  the  army.  I  have  been  married  twice. 
I've  been  in  the  Caucasus,  I  know  the  Dukhobors. 
They're  not  masters  of  life,  no,  they  aren't !  " 

73 


MOTHER 

The  mother  listened  eagerly  to  his  direct  speech. 
It  pleased  her  to  have  an  older  man  come  to  her  son 
and  speak  to  him  just  as  if  he  were  confessing  to  him. 
But  Pavel  seemed  to  treat  the  guest  too  curtly,  and 
the  mother,  to  introduce  a  softer  element,  asked 
Rybin : 

"  Maybe  you'll  have  something  to  eat." 

"  Thank  you,  mother !  I've  had  my  supper  already. 
So  then,  Pavel,  you  think  that  life  does  not  go  as  it 
should?" 

Pavel  arose  and  began  to  pace  the  room,  folding 
his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"  It  goes  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Just  now,  for  instance, 
it  has  brought  you  here  to  me  with  an  open  heart.  We 
who  work  our  whole  life  long — it  unites  us  gradually 
and  more  and  more  every  day.  The  time  will  come  when 
we  shall  all  be  united.  Life  is  arranged  unjustly  for  us 
and  is  made  a  burden.  At  the  same  time,  however,  life 
itself  is  opening  our  eyes  to  its  bitter  meaning  and  is 
itself  showing  man  the  way  to  accelerate  its  pace.  We 
all  of  us  think  just  as  we  live." 

*'  True.  But  wait !  "  Rybin  stopped  him.  "  Man 
ought  to  be  renovated — that's  what  I  think!  When  a 
man  grows  scabby,  take  him  to  the  bath,  give  him  a  thor- 
ough cleaning,  put  clean  clothes  on  him — and  he  will 
get  well.  Isn't  it  so?  And  if  the  heart  grows  scabby, 
take  its  skin  off,  even  if  it  bleeds,  wash  it,  and  dress  it 
up  all  afresh.  Isn't  it  so?  How  else  can  you  clean  the 
inner  man?     There  now!" 

Pavel  began  to  speak  hotly  and  bitterly  about  God, 
about  the  Czar,  about  the  government  authorities,  about 
the  factory,  and  how  in  foreign  countries  the  working- 
men  stand  up  for  their  rights.  Rybin  smiled  occasion- 
ally; sometimes  he  struck  a  finger  on  the  table  as  if 

74 


MOTHER 

punctuating  a  period.  Now  and  then  he  cried  out  briefly : 
"  So !  "  And  once,  laughing  out,  he  said  quietly :  "  YouVe 
young.    You  know  people  but  little !  " 

Pavel  stopping  before  him  said  seriously: 

"  Let's  not  talk  of  being  old  or  being  young.  Let  us 
rather  see  whose  thoughts  are  truer." 

"  That  is,  according  to  you,  we've  been  fooled  about 
God  also.  So!  I,  too,  think  that  our  religion  is  false 
and  injurious  to  us." 

Here  the  mother  intervened.  When  her  son  spoke 
about  God  and  about  everything  that  she  connected  with 
her  faith  in  him,  which  was  dear  and  sacred  to  her,  she 
sought  to  meet  his  eyes,  she  wanted  to  ask  her  son  mutely 
not  to  chafe  her  heart  with  the  sharp,  bitter  words  of  his 
unbelief.  And  she  felt  that  Rybin,  an  older  man,  would 
also  be  displeased  and  offended.  But  when  Rybin  calmly 
put  his  question  to  Pavel,  she  could  no  longer  contain 
herself,  and  said  firmly :  "  When  you  speak  of  God,  I 
wish  you  were  more  careful.  You  can  do  whatever  you 
like.  You  have  your  compensation  in  your  work." 
Catching  her  breath  she  continued  with  still  greater  vehe- 
mence :  *'  But  I,  an  old  woman,  I  will  have  nothing  to 
lean  upon  in  my  distress  if  you  take  my  God  away  from 
me." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  was  washing  the 
dishes,  and  her  fingers  trembled. 

"  You  did  not  understand  us,  mother ! "  Pavel  said 
softly  and  kindly. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  mother !  "  Rybin  added  in  a  slow, 
thick  voice.  He  looked  at  Pavel  and  smiled.  "  I  forgot 
that  you're  too  old  to  cut  out  your  warts." 

"  I  did  not  speak,"  continued  Pavel,  "  about  that  good 
and  gracious  God  in  whom  you  believe,  but  about  the 
God  with  whom  the  priests  threaten  us  as  with  a  stick, 
6  75 


MOTHER 

about  the  God  in  whose  name  they  want  to  force  all 
of  us  to  the  evil  will  of  the  few." 

"  That's  it,  right  you  are !  "  exclaimed  Rybin,  striking 
his  fingers  upon  the  table.  "  They  have  mutilated  even 
our  God  for  us,  they  have  turned  everything  in  their 
hands  against  us.  Mark  you,  mother,  God  created  man 
in  his  own  image  and  after  his  own  likeness.  Therefore 
he  is  like  man  if  man  is  like  him.  But  we  have  become, 
not  like  God,  but  like  wild  beasts !  In  the  churches  they 
set  up  a  scarecrow  before  us.  We  have  got  to  change  our 
God,  mother ;  we  must  cleanse  him !  They  have  dressed 
him  up  in  falsehood  and  calumny;  they  have  distorted 
his  face  in  order  to  destroy  our  souls !  '* 

He  talked  composedly  and  very  distinctly  and  intel- 
ligibly. Every  word  of  his  speech  fell  upon  the  mother's 
ears  like  a  blow.  And  his  face  set  in  the  frame  of  his 
black  beard,  his  broad  face  attired,  as  it  were,  in  mourn- 
ing, frightened  her.  The  dark  gleam  of  his  eyes  was 
insupportable  to  her.  He  aroused  in  her  a  sense  of  an- 
guish, and  filled  her  heart  with  terror. 

•*  No,  I'd  better  go  away,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head 
in  negation.  '*  It's  not  in  my  power  to  listen  to  this. 
I  cannot ! " 

And  she  quickly  walked  into  the  kitchen  followed  by 
the  words  of  Rybin: 

*'  There  you  have  it,  Pavel !  It  begins  not  in  the  head, 
but  in  the  heart.  The  heart  is  such  a  place  that  nothing 
else  will  grow  in  it." 

"  Only  reason,"  said  Pavel  firmly,  ''  only  reason  will 
free  mankind." 

*'  Reason  does  not  give  strength !  "  retorted  Rybin 
emphatically.  "  The  heart  gives  strength,  and  not  the 
head,  I  tell  you." 

The  mother  undressed  and  lay  down  in  bed  without 

76 


MOTHER 

saying  her  prayer.  She  felt  cold  and  miserable.  And 
Rybin,  who  at  first  seemed  such  a  staid,  wise  man,  now 
aroused  in  her  a  blind  hostility. 

"  Heretic !  Sedition-maker !  "  she  thought,  listening 
to  his  even  voice  flowing  resonantly  from  his  deep  chest. 
He,  too,  had  come — he  was  indispensable. 

He  spoke  confidently  and  composedly: 

'*  The  holy  place  must  not  be  empty.  The  spot  where 
God  dwells  is  a  place  of  pain ;  and  if  he  drops  out  from 
the  heart,  there  will  be  a  wound  in  it,  mark  my  word! 
It  is  necessary,  Pavel,  to  invent  a  new  faith;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  create  a  God  for  all.  Not  a  judge,  not  a  warrior, 
but  a  God  who  shall  be  the  friend  of  the  people." 

"  You  had  one !    There  was  Christ !  " 

"  Wait  a  moment !  Christ  was  not  strong  in  spirit. 
'  Let  the  cup  pass  from  me,'  he  said.  And  he  recognized 
Caesar.  God  cannot  recognize  human  powers.  He  him- 
self is  the  whole  of  power.  He  does  not  divide  his  soul 
saying:  so  much  for  the  godly,  so  much  for  the  human. 
If  Christ  came  to  affirm  the  divine  he  had  no  need  for 
anything  human.  But  he  recognized  trade,  and  he  rec- 
ognized marriage.  And  it  was  unjust  of  him  to  condemn 
the  fig  tree.  Was  it  of  its  own  will  that  it  was  barren 
of  fruit?  Neither  is  the  soul  barren  of  good  of  its  own 
accord.  Have  I  sown  the  evil  in  it  myself?  Of  course 
not!" 

The  two  voices  hummed  continuously  in  the  room, 
as  if  clutching  at  each  other  and  wrestling  in  exciting 
play.  Pavel  walked  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  room ; 
the  floor  cracked  under  his  feet.  When  he  spoke  all 
other  sounds  were  drowned  by  his  voice;  but  above  the 
slow,  calm  flow  of  Rybin's  dull  utterance  were  heard  the 
strokes  of  the  pendulum  and  the  low  creaking  of  the 
frost,  as  of  sharp  claws  scratching  the  walls  of  the  house. 

77 


MOTHER 

"  I  will  speak  to  you  in  my  own  way,  in  the  words 
of  a  stoker.  God  is  like  fire.  He  does  not  strengthen 
anything.  He  cannot.  He  merely  burns  and  fuses  when 
he  gives  light.  He  burns  down  churches,  he  does  not 
raise  them.     He  lives  in  the  heart." 

"  And  in  the  mind !  "  insisted  Pavel. 

*'  That's  it !  In  the  heart  and  in  the  mind.  There's 
the  rub.  It's  this  that  makes  all  the  trouble  and  misery 
and  misfortune.  We  have  severed  ourselves  from  our 
own  selves.  The  heart  was  severed  from  the  mind,  and 
the  mind  has  disappeared.  Man  is  not  a  unit.  It  is  God 
that  makes  him  a  unit,  that  makes  him  a  round,  circular 
thing.  God  always  makes  things  round.  Such  is  the 
earth  and  all  the  stars  and  everything  visible  to  the  eye. 
The  sharp,  angular  things  are  the  work  of  men." 

The  mother  fell  asleep  and  did  not  hear  Rybin  depart. 

But  he  began  to  come  often,  and  if  any  of  Pavel's 
comrades  were  present,  Rybin  sat  in  a  corner  and  was 
silent,  only  occasionally  interjecting:  "That's  so!" 

And  once  looking  at  everybody  from  his  corner  with 
his  dark  glance  he  said  somberly : 

"  We  must  speak  about  that  which  is ;  that  which  will 
be  is  unknown  to  us.  When  the  people  have  freed  them- 
selves, they  will  see  for  themselves  what  is  best.  Enough, 
quite  enough  of  what  they  do  not  want  at  all  has  been 
knocked  into  their  heads.  Let  there  be  an  end  of  this! 
Let  them  contrive  for  themselves.  Maybe  they  will  want 
to  reject  everything,  all  life,  and  all  knowledge ;  maybe 
they  will  see  that  everything  is  arranged  against  them. 
You  just  deliver  all  the  books  into  their  hands,  and  they 
will  find  an  answer  for  themselves,  depend  upon  it! 
Only  let  them  remember  that  the  tighter  the  collar  round 
the  horse's  neck,  the  worse  the  work." 

But  when  Pavel  was  alone  with  Rybin  they  at  once 

78 


MOTHER 

began  an  endless  but  always  calm  disputation,  to  which 
the  mother  listened  anxiously,  following  their  words  in 
silence,  and  endeavoring  to  understand.  Sometimes  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  the  broad-shouldered,  black-bearded 
peasant  and  her  well-built,  sturdy  son  had  both  gone 
blind.  In  that  little  room,  in  the  darkness,  they  seemed 
to  be  knocking  about  from  side  to  side  in  search  of 
light  and  an  outlet,  to  be  grasping  out  with  powerful 
but  blind  hands ;  they  seemed  to  fall  upon  the  floor,  and 
having  fallen,  to  scrape  and  fumble  with  their  feet.  They 
hit  against  everything,  groped  about  for  everything,  and 
flung  it  away,  calm  and  composed,  losing  neither  faith 
nor  hope. 

They  got  her  accustomed  to  listen  to  a  great  many 
words,  terrible  in  their  directness  and  boldness ;  and  these 
words  had  now  ceased  to  weigh  down  on  her  so  heavily 
as  at  first.  She  learned  to  push  them  away  from  her 
ears.  And  although  Rybin  still  displeased  her  as  before, 
he  no  longer  inspired  her  with  hostility. 

Once  a  week  she  carried  underwear  and  books  to  the 
Little  Russian  in  prison.  On  one  occasion  they  allowed 
her  to  see  him  and  talk  to  him ;  and  on  returning  home 
she  related  enthusiastically: 

"  He  is  as  if  he  were  at  home  there,  too !  He  is 
good  and  kind  to  everybody;  everybody  jokes  with  him; 
just  as  if  there  were  a  holiday  in  his  heart  all  the  time. 
His  lot  is  hard  and  heavy,  but  he  does  not  want  to 
show  it." 

"  That's  right !  That's  the  way  one  should  act,"  ob- 
served Rybin.  "  We  are  all  enveloped  in  misery  as  in 
our  skins.  We  breathe  misery,  we  wear  misery.  But 
that's  nothing  to  brag  about.  Not  all  people  are  blind ; 
some  close  their  eyes  of  their  own  accord,  indeed !  And 
if  you  are  stupid  you  have  to  suffer  for  it." 

79 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HE  little  old  gray  house  of  the  Vlasovs  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  village  more 
and  more;  and  although  there  was  much 
suspicious  chariness  and  unconscious  hos- 
tility in  this  notice,  yet  at  the  same  time 
a  confiding  curiosity  grew  up  also.  Now  and  then  some 
one  would  come  over,  and  looking  carefully  about  him 
would  say  to  Pavel :  "  Well,  brother,  you  are  reading 
books  here,  and  you  know  the  laws.     Explain  to  me, 

then " 

And  he  would  tell  Pavel  about  some  injustice  of  the 
police  or  the  factory  administration.  In  complicated  cases 
ripvel  wouFd  give  the  man  a  note  to  a  lawyer  friend  in 
the  city,  and  when  he  could,  he  would  explain  the  case 
himself. 

Gradually  people  began  to  look  with  respect  upon  this 
young,  serious  man,  who  spoke  about  ever>1:hing  simply 
and  boldly,  and  almost  never  laughed,  who  looked  at 
everybody  and  listened  to  everybody  with  an  attention 
which  searched  stubbornly  into  every  circumstance,  and 
always  found  a  certain  general  and  endless  thread  bind- 
ing people  together  by  a  thousand  tightly  drawn  knots. 
Vlasova  saw  how  her  son  had  grown  up;  she  strove 
to  understand  his  work,  and  when  she  succeeded,  she  re- 
joiced with  a  childlike  joy. 

Pavel  rose  particularlv  in  the  esteem  of  the  people 
'  80 


MOTHER 

after  the  appearance  of  his  story  about  the  "  Muddy- 
Penny." 

Back  of  the  factory,  almost  encircling  it  with  a  ring 
of  putrescence,  stretched  a  vast  marsh  grown  over  with 
fir  trees  and  birches.  In  the  summer  it  was  covered 
with  thick  yellow  and  green  scum,  and  swarms  of  mos- 
quitoes flew  from  it  over  the  village,  spreading  fever  in 
their  course.  The  marsh  belonged  to  the  factory,  and 
the  new  manager,  wishing  to  extract  profit  from  it,  con- 
ceived the  plan  of  draining  it  and  incidentally  gathering 
in  a  fine  harvest  of  peat.  Representing  to  the  working- 
men  how  much  this  measure  would  contribute  to  the 
sanitation  of  the  locality  and  the  improvement  of  the 
general  condition  of  all,  the  manager  gave  orders  to  de- 
duct a  kopeck  from  every  ruble  of  their  earnings,  in 
order  to  cover  the  expense  of  draining  the  marsh.  The 
workingmen  rebelled;  they  especially  resented  the  fact 
that  the  office  clerks  were  exempted  from  paying  the 
new  tax. 

Pavel  was  ill  on  the  Saturday  when  posters  were 
hung  up  announcing  the  manager's  order  in  regard  to 
the  toll.  He  had  not  gone  to  work  and  he  knew  nothing 
about  it.  The  next  day,  after  mass,  a  dapper  old  man, 
the  smelter  Sizov,  and  the  tall,  vicious-looking  locksmith 
Makhotin,  came  to  him  and  told  him  of  the  manager's 
decision. 

"  A  few  of  us  older  ones  got  together,"  said  Sizov, 
speaking  sedately,  "  talked  the  matter  over,  and  our  com- 
rades, you  see,  sent  us  over  to  you,  as  you  are  a  knowing 
man  among  us.  Is  there  such  a  law  as  gives  our  manager 
the  right  to  make  war  upon  mosquitoes  with  our  ko- 
pecks ?  " 

"  Think !  "  said  Makhotin,  with  a  glimmer  in  his  nar- 
row eyes.     "  Three  years  ago  these  sharpers  collected  a 

8i 


MOTHER 

tax  to  build  a  bath  house.  Three  thousand  eight  hundred 
rubles  is  what  they  gathered  in.  Where  are  those  rubles  ? 
And  where  is  the  bath  house  ?  " 

Pavel  explained  the  injustice  of  the  tax,  and  the  ob- 
vious advantage  of  such  a  procedure  to  the  factory  own- 
ers ;  and  both  of  his  visitors  went  away  in  a  surly  mood 

The  mother,  who  had  gone  with  them  to  the  door^ 
said,  laughing: 

"  Now,  Pasha,  the  old  people  have  also  begun  to  come 
to  seek  wisdom  from  you." 

Without  replying,  Pavel  sat  down  at  the  table  with 
a  busy  air  and  began  to  write.  In  a  few  minutes  he  said 
to  her:  "Please  go  to  the  city  immediately  and  deliver 
this  note." 

"  Is  it  dangerous  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes !  A  newspaper  is  being  published  for  us  down 
there !  That  *  Muddy  Penny '  story  must  go  into  the 
next  issue." 

'*  I'll  go  at  once,"  she  replied,  beginning  hurriedly  to 
put  on  her  wraps. 

This  was  the  first  commission  her  son  had  given  her. 
She  was  happy  that  he  spoke  to  her  so  openly  about 
the  matter,  and  that  she  might  be  useful  to  him  in  his 
work. 

"  I  understand  all  about  it.  Pasha,"  she  said.  "  It's 
a  piece  of  robbery.  What's  the  name  of  the  man  ?  Yegor 
Ivanovich  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pavel,  smiling  kindly. 

She  returned  late  in  the  evening,  exhausted  but  con- 
tented. 

'*  I  saw  Sashenka,"  she  told  her  son.  "  She  sends 
you  her  regards.  And  this  Yegor  Ivanovich  is  such  a 
simple  fellow,  such  a  joker!     He  speaks  so  comically." 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  them,"  said  Pavel  softly. 
S2 


MOTHER 

"  They  are  simple  people,  Pasha.  It's  good  when 
people  are  simple.    And  they  all  respect  you." 

Again,  Monday,  Pavel  did  not  go  to  work.  His  head 
ached.  But  at  dinner  time  Fedya  Mazin  came  running 
in,  excited,  out  of  breath,  happy,  and  tired. 

"  Come !  The  whole  factory  has  arisen !  They've 
sent  for  you.  Sizov  and  Makhotin  say  you  can  explain 
better  than  anybody  else.     My !    What  a  hullabaloo !  " 

Pavel  began  to  dress  himself  silently. 

"  A  crowd  of  women  are  gathered  there ;  they  are 
screaming !  " 

"  I'll  go,  too,"  declared  the  mother.  "  You're  not 
well,  and — what  are  they  doing?    I'm  going,  too." 

"  Come,"  Pavel  said  briefly. 

They  walked  along  the  street  quickly  and  silently. 
The  mother  panted  with  the  exertion  of  the  rapid  gait 
and  her  excitement.  She  felt  that  something  big  was 
happening.  At  the  factory  gates  a  throng  of  women 
were  discussing  the  affair  in  shrill  voices.  When  the 
three  pushed  into  the  yard,  they  found  themselves  in  the 
thick  of  a  crowd  buzzing  and  humming  in  excitement. 
The  mother  saw  that  all  heads  were  turned  in  the  same 
direction,  toward  the  blacksmith's  wall,  where  Sizov, 
Makhotin,  Vyalov,  and  five  or  six  influential,  solid  work- 
ingmen  were  standing  on  a  high  pile  of  old  iron  heaped 
on  the  red  brick  paving  of  the  court,  and  waving  their 
hands. 

*'  Vlasov  is  coming !  "  somebody  shouted. 

"  Vlasov  ?     Bring  him  along !  " 

Pavel  was  seized  and  pushed  forward,  and  the  mother 

came  the  shout  from  various  directions, 
en  voice  of  Rybin  was  heard : 
make  a  stand,  not  for  the  kopeck,  but  for 

83 


MOTHER 

justice.  What  is  dear  to  us  is  not  our  kopeck,  because 
it's  no  rounder  than  any  other  kopeck ;  it's  only  heavier ; 
there's  more  human  blood  in  it  than  in  the  manager's 
ruble.    That's  the  truth  !  " 

The  words  fell  forcibly  on  the  crowd  and  stirred  the 
men  to  hot  responses : 

"That's  right!     Good,  Rybin!" 

"  Silence !    The  devil  take  you !  " 

"  Vlasov's  come !  " 

The  voices  mingled  in  a  confused  uproar,  drowning 
the  ponderous  whir  of  the  machinery,  the  sharp  snorts 
of  the  steam,  and  the  flapping  of  the  leather  belts.  From 
all  sides  people  came  running,  waving  their  hands ;  they 
fell  into  arguments,  and  excited  one  another  with  burn- 
ing, stinging  words.  The  irritation  that  had  found  no 
vent,  that  had  always  lain  dormant  in  tired  breasts,  had 
awakened,  demanded  an  outlet,  and  burst  from  their 
mouths  in  a  volley  of  words.  It  soared  into  the  air  like 
a  great  bird  spreading  its  motley  wings  ever  wider  and 
wider,  clutching  people  and  dragging  them  after  it,  and 
striking  them  against  one  another.  It  lived  anew,  trans- 
formed into  flaming  wrath.  A  cloud  of  dust  and  soot 
hung  over  the  crowd ;  their  faces  were  all  afire,  and  black 
drops  of  sweat  trickled  down  their  cheeks.  Their  eyes 
gleamed  from  darkened  countenances;  their  teeth  glis- 
tened. 

Pavel  appeared  on  the  spot  where  Sizov  and  Makhotin 
were  standing,  and  his  voice  rang  out : 

"  Comrades !  " 

The  mother  saw  that  his  face  paled  and  his  lips  trem- 
bled ;  she  involuntarily  pushed  forward,  shoving  her  way 
through  the  crowd. 

*'  Where  are  you  going,  old  woman  ?  " 

She  heard  the  angry  question,  and  the  people  pushed 

84 


MOTHER 

her,  but  she  would  not  stop,  thrusting  the  crowd  aside 
with  her  shoulders  and  elbows.  She  slowly  forced  her 
way  nearer  to  her  son,  yielding  to  the  desire  to  stand 
by  his  side.  When  Pavel  had  thrown  out  the  word  to 
which  he  was  wont  to  attach  a  deep  and  significant  mean- 
ing, his  throat  contracted  in  a  sharp  spasm  of  the  joy 
of  fight.  He  was  seized  with  an  invincible  desire  to 
give  himself  up  to  the  strength  of  his  faith ;  to  throw 
his  heart  to  the  people.  His  heart  kindled  with  the 
dream  of  truth. 

"  Comrades !  "  he  repeated,  extracting  power  and  rap- 
ture from  the  word.  "  We  are  the  people  who  build 
churches  and  factories,  forge  chains  and  coin  money, 
make  toys  and  machines.  We  are  that  living  force  which 
feeds  and  amuses  the  world  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave." 

''  There !  "  Rybin  exclaimed. 

"  Always  and  everj^where  we  are  first  in  work  but 
last  in  life.  Who  cares  for  us?  Who  wishes  us  good? 
Who  regards  us  as  human  beings  ?     No  one !  *' 

"  No  one !  "  echoed  from  the  crowd. 

Pavel,  mastering  himself,  began  to  talk  more  simply 
and  calmly;  the  crowd  slowly  drew  about  him,  blending 
into  one  dark,  thick,  thousand-headed  body.  It  looked 
into  his  face  with  hundreds  of  attentive  eyes;  it  sucked 
in  his  words  in  silent,  strained  attention. 

"  We  will  not  attain  to  a  better  life  until  we  feel 
ourselves  as  comrades,  as  one  family  of  friends  firmly 
bound  together  by  one  desire — the  desire  to  fight  for 
our  rights." 

"  Get  down  to  business !  "  somebody  standing  near 
the  mother  shouted  rudely. 

**  Don't  interrupt !  "  "  Shut  up !  "  The  two  muffled 
exclamations  were  heard  in  different  places.     The  soot- 

85 


MOTHER 

covered   faces  frowned  in  sulky   incredulity;  scores   of 
eyes  looked  into  Pavel's  face  thoughtfully  and  seriously. 

**  A  socialist,  but  no  fool !  "  somebody  observed. 

"  I  say,  he  does  speak  boldly !  "  said  a  tall,  crippled 
v^^orkingman,  tapping  the  mother  on  the  shoulder. 

"  It  is  time,  comrades,  to  take  a  stand  against  the 
greedy  power  that  lives  by  our  labor.  It  is  time  to  de- 
fend ourselves;  we  must  all  understand  that  no  one  ex- 
cept ourselves  will  help  us.  One  for  all  and  all  for  one 
— this  is  our  law,  if  we  want  to  crush  the  foe !  " 

"  He's  right,  boys !  "  Makhotin  shouted.  "  Listen  to 
the  truth !  "  And,  with  a  broad  sweep  of  his  arm,  he 
shook  his  fist  in  the  air. 

"  We  must  call  out  the  manager  at  once,"  said  Pavel. 
"  We  must  ask  him." 

As  if  struck  by  a  tornado,  the  crowd  rocked  to  and 
fro ;  scores  of  voices  shouted : 

"  The  manager !  The  manager !  Let  him  come !  Let 
him  explain !  " 

**  Send  delegates  for  him !     Bring  him  here !  " 

**  No,  don't ;  it's  not  necessary !  " 

The  mother  pushed  her  way  to  the  front  and  looked 
up  at  her  son.  She  was  filled  with  pride.  Her  son 
stood  among  the  old,  respected  workingmen ;  all  listened 
to  him  and  agreed  with  him !  She  was  pleased  that  he 
was  so  calm  and  talked  so  simply ;  not  angrily,  not  swear- 
ing, like  the  others.  Broken  exclamations,  wrathful 
words  and  oaths  descended  like  hail  on  iron.  Pavel 
looked  down  on  the  people  from  his  elevation,  and  with 
wide-open  eyes  seemed  to  be  seeking  something  among 
them. 

"  Delegates !  " 

"  Let  Sizov  speak  I  " 

"  Vlasov !  " 

86 


MOTHER 

"  Rybin !     He  has  a  terrible  tongue !  " 

Finally  Sizov,  Rybin,  and  Pavel  were  chosen  for  the 
interview  with  the  manager.  When  just  about  to  send 
for  the  manager,  suddenly  low  exclamations  were  heard 
in  the  crowd: 

"  Here  he  comes  himself !  " 

''  The  manager  ?  " 

"Ah!" 

The  crowd  opened  to  make  way  for  a  tall,  spare  man 
with  a  pointed  beard,  an  elongated  face  and  blinking  eyes. 

"  Permit  me,"  he  said,  as  he  pushed  the  people  aside 
with  a  short  motion  of  his  hand,  without  touching  them. 
With  the  experienced  look  of  a  ruler  of  people,  he  scanned 
the  workingmen's  faces  with  a  searching  gaze.  They 
took  their  hats  off  and  bowed  to  him.  He  walked  past 
them  without  acknowledging  their  greetings.  His  pres- 
ence silenced  and  confused  the  crowd,  and  evoked  embar- 
rassed smiles  and  low  exclamations,  as  of  repentant  chil- 
dren who  had  already  come  to  regret  their  prank. 

Now  he  passed  by  the  mother,  casting  a  stern  glance 
at  her  face,  and  stopped  before  the  pile  of  iron.  Some- 
body from  above  extended  a  hand  to  him;  he  did  not 
take  it,  but  with  an  easy,  powerful  movement  of  his  body 
he  clambered  up  and  stationed  himself  in  front  of  Pavel 
and  Sizov.     Looking  around  the  silent  crowd,  he  asked: 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  crowd  ?  Why  have  you 
dropped  your  work  ?  " 

For  a  few  seconds  silence  reigned.  Sizov  waved  his 
cap  in  the  air,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  dropped  his 
head. 

"  I  am  asking  you  a  question !  "  continued  the  man- 
ager. 

Pavel  moved  alongside  of  him  and  said  in  a  low  voice^ 
pointing  to  Sizov  and  Rybin : 

87 


MOTHER 

"  We  three  are  authorized  by  all  the  comrades  to  ask 
you  to  revoke  your  order  about  the  kopeck  discount." 

**  Why  ? "  asked  the  manager,  without  looking  at 
Pavel. 

"We  do  not  consider  such  a  tax  just!"  Pavel  re- 
plied loudly. 

"  So,  in  my  plan  to  drain  the  marsh  you  see  only 
a  desire  to  exploit  the  workingmen  and  not  a  desire  to 
better  their  conditions ;  is  that  it  ?  " 

"Yes!"  Pavel  replied. 

"  And  you,  also  ?  "  the  manager  asked  Rybin. 

"  The  very  same !  " 

"  How  about  you,  my  worthy  friend  ?  "  The  manager 
turned  to  Sizov. 

"  I,  too,  want  to  ask  you  to  let  us  keep  our  kopecks." 
And  drooping  his  head  again,  Sizov  smiled  guiltily.  The 
manager  slowly  bent  his  look  upon  the  crowd  again, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  then,  regarding  Pavel  search- 
ingly,  observed: 

"  You  appear  to  be  a  fairly  Intelligent  man.  Do  you 
not  understand  the  usefulness  of  this  measure  ?  " 

Pavel  replied  loudly: 

"If  the  factory  should  drain  the  marsh  at  its  own 
expense,  we  would  all  understand  it !  " 

"  This  factory  is  not  in  the  philanthropy  business !  " 
remarked  the  manager  dryly.  "  I  order  you  all  to  start 
work  at  once !  " 

And  he  began  to  descend,  cautiously  feeling  the  iron 
.with  his  feet,  and  without  looking  at  anyone. 

A  dissatisfied  hum  was  heard  in  the  crowd. 

"  What !  "  asked  the  manager,  halting. 

All  were  silent ;  then  from  the  distance  came  a  solitary 
voice : 

"  You  go  to  work  yourself !  " 


MOTHER 

"  If  in  fifteen  minutes  you  do  not  start  work,  I'll  order 
every  single  one  of  you  to  be  discharged ! "  the  manager 
announced  dryly  and  distinctly. 

He  again  proceeded  through  the  crowd,  but  now  an 
indistinct  murmur  followed  him,  and  the  shouting  grew 
louder  as  his  figure  receded. 

"  Speak  to  him !  " 

"That's  what  you  call  justice!    Worse  luck!" 

Some  turned  to  Pavel  and  shouted: 

"  Say,  you  great  lawyer,  you,  what's  to  be  done  now  ? 
You  talked  and  talked,  but  the  moment  he  came  it  all 
went  up  in  the  air !  " 

"Well,  Vlasov,  what  now?" 

When  the  shouts  became  more  insistent,  Pavel  raised 
his  hand  and  said: 

"  Comrades,  I  propose  that  we  quit  work  until  he 
gives  up  that  kopeck !  " 

Excited  voices  burst  out: 

"  He  thinks  we're  fools !  " 

"We  ought  to  do  it!" 

"A  strike?" 

"  For  one  kopeck  ?  " 

"Why  not?     Why  not  strike?" 

"  We'll  all  be  discharged  !  " 

"  And  who  is  going  to  do  the  work  ?  " 

"  There  are  others !  " 

"Who?    Judases?" 

"  Every  year  I  would  have  to  give  three  rubles  and 
sixty  kopecks  to  the  mosquitoes !  " 

"  All  of  us  would  have  to  give  it ! " 

Pavel  walked  down  and  stood  at  the  side  of  his 
mother.  No  one  paid  any  attention  to  him  now.  They 
were  all  yelling  and  debating  hotly  with  one  another. 

"  You  cannot  get  them  to  strike !  "  said  Rybin,  coming 

89 


MOTHER 

Up  to  Pavel.  "  Greedy  as  these  people  are  for  a  penny, 
they  are  too  cowardly.  You  may,  perhaps,  induce  about 
three  hundred  of  them  to  follow  you,  no  more.  It's  a 
heap  of  dung  you  won't  lift  with  one  toss  of  the  pitch- 
fork, I  tell  you !  " 

Pavel  was  silent.  In  front  of  him  the  huge  black 
face  of  the  crowd  was  rocking  wildly,  and  fixed  on  him 
an  importunate  stare.  His  heart  beat  in  alarm.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  if  all  the  words  he  had  spoken  vanished  in 
the  crowd  without  leaving  any  trace,  like  scattered  drops 
of  rain  falling  on  parched  soil.  One  after  the  other, 
workmen  approached  him  praising  his  speech,  but  doubt- 
ing the  success  of  a  strike,  and  complaining  how  little 
the  people  understood  their  own  interests  and  realized 
their  own  strength. 

Pavel  had  a  sense  of  injury  and  disappointment  as  to 
his  own  power.  His  head  ached ;  he  felt  desolate.  Hith- 
erto, whenever  he  pictured  the  triumph  of  his  truth,  he 
wanted  to  cry  with  the  delight  that  seized  his  heart.  But 
here  he  had  spoken  his  truth  to  the  people,  and  behold! 
when  clothed  in  words  it  appeared  so  pale,  so  powerless, 
so  incapable  of  affecting  anyone.  He  blamed  himself; 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  concealed  his  dream  in  a 
poor,  disfiguring  garment,  and  no  one  could,  therefore, 
detect  its  beauty. 

He  went  home,  tired  and  moody.  He  was  followed 
by  his  mother  and  Sizov,  while  Rybin  walked  alongside, 
buzzing  into  his  ear: 

"  You  speak  well,  but  you  don't  speak  to  the  heart ! 
That's  the  trouble !  The  spark  must  be  thrown  into  the 
heart,  into  its  very  depths !  " 

"  It's  time  we  lived  and  were  guided  by  reason,"  Pavel 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  The  boot  does  not  fit  the  foot ;  it's  too  thin  and 
90 


MOTHER 

narrow!  The  foot  won't  get  in!  And  if  it  does,  it  will 
wear  the  boot  out  mighty  quick.    That  is  the  trouble." 

Sizov,  meanwhile,  talked  to  the  mother. 

*'  It's  time  for  us  old  folks  to  get  into  our  graves. 
Nilovna !  A  new  people  is  coming.  What  sort  of  a  life 
have  we  lived?  We  crawled  on  our  knees,  and  always 
crouched  on  the  ground !  But  here  are  the  new  people. 
They  have  either  come  to  their  senses,  or  else  are  blun- 
dering worse  than  we ;  but  they  are  not  like  us,  anyway. 
Just  look  at  those  youngsters  talking  to  the  manager  as 
to  their  equal !  Yes,  ma'am !  Oh,  if  only  my  son  Matvey 
were  alive !  Good-by,  Pavel  Vlasov !  You  stand  up  for 
the  people  all  right,  brother.  God  grant  you  his  favor! 
Perhaps  you'll  find  a  way  out.  God  grant  it !  "  And  he 
walked  away. 

"  Yes,  you  may  as  well  die  straight  off!  "  murmured 
Rybin.  "  You  are  no  men,  now.  You  are  only  putty — 
good  to  fill  cracks  with,  that's  all !  Did  you  see,  Pavel, 
who  it  was  that  shouted  to  make  you  a  delegate?  It 
was  those  who  call  you  socialist — agitator — yes! — think- 
ing you'd  be  discharged,  and  it  would  serve  you  right !  '* 

"  They  are  right,  according  to  their  lights ! "  said 
Pavel. 

"  So  are  wolves  when  they  tear  one  another  to 
pieces !  "  Rybin's  face  was  sullen,  his  voice  unusually 
tremulous. 

The  whole  day  Pavel  felt  ill  at  ease,  as  if  he  had 
lost  something,  he  did  not  know  what,  and  anticipated 
a  further  loss. 

At  night  when  the  mother  was  asleep  and  he  was 
reading  in  bed,  gendarmes  appeared  and  began  to  search 
everywhere — in  the  yard,  in  the  attic.  They  were  sullen ; 
the  yellow-faced  officer  conducted  himself  as  on  the  first 
occasion,  insultingly,  derisively,  delighting  in  abuse,  en- 
7  91 


MOTHER 

deavoring  to  cut  down  to  the  very  heart.  The  mother, 
in  a  corner,  maintained  silence,  never  removing  her  eyes 
from  her  son's  face.  He  made  every  effort  not  to  betray 
his  emotion ;  but  whenever  the  officer  laughed,  his  fingers 
twitched  strangely,  and  the  old  woman  felt  how  hard  it 
was  for  him  not  to  reply,  and  to  bear  the  jesting.  This 
time  the  affair  was  not  so  terrorizing  to  her  as  at  the 
first  search.  She  felt  a  greater  hatred  to  these  gray, 
spurred  night  callers,  and  her  hatred  swallowed  up  her 
alarm. 

Pavel  managed  to  whisper : 

"  They'll  arrest  me." 

Inclining  her  head,  she  quietly  replied: 

"  I  understand." 

She  did  understand — they  would  put  him  in  jail  for 
what  he  had  said  to  the  workingmen  that  day.  But 
since  all  agreed  with  what  he  had  said,  and  all  ought 
to  stand  up  for  him,  he  would  not  be  detained  long. 

She  longed  to  embrace  him  and  cry  over  him;  but 
there  stood  the  officer,  watching  her  with  a  malevolent 
squint  of  his  eyes.  His  lips  trembled,  his  mustache 
twitched.  It  seemed  to  Vlasova  that  the  officer  was  but 
waiting  for  her  tears,  complaints,  and  supplications.  With 
a  supreme  effort  endeavoring  to  say  as  little  as  possible, 
she  pressed  her  son's  hand,  and  holding  her  breath  said 
slowly,  in  a  low  tone: 

"  Good-by,  Pasha.  Did  you  take  everything  you 
need?" 

"  Everything.    Don't  worry !  " 

"  Christ  be  with  you !  " 


CHAPTER   IX 

HEN  the  police  had  led  Pavel  away,  the 
mother  sat  down  on  the  bench,  and  closing 
her  eyes  began  to  weep  quietly.  She  leaned 
her  back  against  the  wall,  as  her  husband 
used  to  do,  her  head  thrown  backward. 
Bound  up  in  her  grief  and  the  injured  sense  of  her  im- 
potence, she  cried  long,  gently,  and  monotonously,  pour- 
ing out  all  the  pain  of  her  wounded  heart  in  her  sobs. 
And  before  her,  like  an  irremovable  stain,  hung  that 
yellow  face  with  the  scant  mustache,  and  the  squinting 
eyes  staring  at  her  with  malicious  pleasure.  Resentment 
and  bitterness  were  winding  themselves  about  her  breast 
like  black  threads  on  a  spool ;  resentment  and  bitterness 
toward  those  who  tear  a  son  away  from  his  mother  be- 
cause he  is  seeking  truth. 

It  was  cold;  the  rain  pattered  against  the  window 
panes ;  something  seemed  to  be  creeping  along  the  walls. 
She  thought  she  heard,  walking  watchfully  around  the 
house,  gray,  heavy  figures,  with  broad,  red  faces,  without 
eyes,  and  with  long  arms.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
almost  heard  the  jingling  of  their  spurs. 

"  I  wish  they  had  taken  me,  too !  "  she  thought. 
The  whistle  blew,  calling  the  people  to  work.     This 
time  its  sounds  were  low,  indistinct,  uncertain.    The  door 
opened  and  Rybin  entered.    He  stood  before  her,  wiping 
the  raindrops  from  his  beard. 

"  They  snatched  him  away,  did  they  ?  '*  he  asked. 
93 


MOTHER 

*'  Yes,  they  did,  the  dogs !  "  she  replied.,  sighing. 

"  That's  how  it  is,"  said  Rybin,  with  a  smile ;  "  they 
searched  me,  too ;  went  all  through  me — yes !  Abused 
me  to  their  heart's  content,  but  did  me  no  harm  beyond 
that.  So  they  carried  off  Pavel,  did  they  ?  The  manager 
tipped  the  wink,  the  gendarme  said  '  Amen !  '  and  lo !  a 
man  has  disappeared.  They  certainly  are  thick  together. 
One  goes  through  the  people's  pockets  while  the  other 
holds  the  gun." 

"  You  ought  to  stand  up  for  Pavel ! "  cried  the 
mother,  rising  to  her  feet.  "  It's  for  you  all  that  he's 
gone ! " 

"  Who  ought  to  stand  up  for  him?  "  asked  Rybin. 

"  All  of  you  1  " 

"  You  want  too  much !  We'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind ! 
Our  masters  have  been  gathering  strength  for  thousands 
of  years ;  they  have  driven  our  hearts  full  of  nails.  We 
cannot  unite  at  once.  We  must  first  extract  from  our- 
selves, each  from  the  other,  the  iron  spikes  that  prevent 
us  from  standing  close  to  one  another." 

And  thus  he  departed,  with  his  heavy  gait,  leaving 
the  mother  to  her  grief,  aggravated  by  the  stern  hopeless- 
ness of  his  words. 

The  day  passed  in  a  thick  mist  of  empty,  senseless 
longing.  She  made  no  fire,  cooked  no  dinner,  drank  no 
tea,  and  only  late  in  the  evening  ate  a  piece  of  bread. 
When  she  went  to  bed  it  occurred  to  her  that  her  life 
had  never  yet  been  so  humiliating,  so  lonely  and  void. 
During  the  last  years  she  had  become  accustomed  to 
live  constantly  in  the  expectation  of  something- momen- 
tous, something  good.  Young  people  were  circling 
around  her,  noisy,  vigorous,  full  of  life.  Her  son's 
thoughtful  and  earnest  face  was  always  before  her,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  the  master  and  creator  of  this  thrilling 

94 


MOTHER 

and  noble  life.  Now  he  was  gone,  everything  was  gone. 
In  the  whole  day,  no  one  except  the  disagreeable  Rybin 
had  called. 

Beyond  the  window,  the  dense,  cold  rain  was  sighing 
and  knocking  at  the  panes.  The  rain  and  the  drippings 
from  the  roof  filled  the  air  with  a  doleful,  wailing  melody. 
The  whole  house  appeared  to  be  rocking  gently  to  and 
fro,  and  everything  around  her  seemed  aimless  and  un- 
necessary. 

A  gentle  rap  was  heard  at  the  door.  It  came  once, 
and  then  a  second  time.  She  had  grown  accustomed  to 
these  noises;  they  no  longer  frightened  her.  A  soft, 
joyous  sensation  thrilled  her  heart,  and  a  vague  hope 
quickly  brought  her  to  her  feet.  Throwing  a  shawl  over 
her  shoulders,  she  hurried  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

Samoylov  walked  in,  followed  by  another  man  with 
his  face  hidden  behind  the  collar  of  his  overcoat  and 
under  a  hat  thrust  over  his  eyebrows. 

*'  Did  we  wake  you  ?  "  asked  Samoylov,  without  greet- 
ing the  mother,  his  face  gloomy  and  thoughtful,  con- 
trary to  his  wont. 

"  I  was  not  asleep,"  she  said,  looking  at  them  with 
expectant  eyes. 

Samoylov's  companion  took  off  his  hat,  and  breathing 
heavily  and  hoarsely  said  in  a  friendly  basso,  like  an 
old  acquaintance,  giving  her  his  broad,  short-fingered 
hand: 

"  Good  evening,  granny !    You  don't  recognize  me  ?  " 

"  Is  it  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Nilovna,  with  a  sudden  access 
of  delight.     "Yegor  Ivanovich?" 

"  The  very  same  identical  one !  "  replied  he,  bowing 
his  large  head  with  its  long  hair.  There  was  a  good- 
natured  smile  on  his  face^  and  a  clear,  caressing  look 
in  his  small  gray  eyes.    He  was  like  a  samovar — rotund, 

95 


MOTHER 

short,  with  thick  neck  and  short  arms.  His  face  was 
shiny  and  glossy,  with  high  cheek  bones.  He  breathed 
noisily,  and  his  chest  kept  up  a  continuous  low  wheeze. 

"  Step  into  the  room.  I'll  be  dressed  in  a  minute,*' 
the  mother  said. 

"  We  have  come  to  you  on  business,"  said  Samoy- 
lov  thoughtfully,  looking  at  her  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eyes. 

Yegor  Ivanovich  passed  into  the  room,  and  from  there 
said: 

"  Nikolay  got  out  of  jail  this  morning,  granny.  You 
know  him  ?  " 

"How  long  was  he  there?"  she  asked. 

"  Five  months  and  eleven  days.  He  saw  the  Little 
Russian  there,  who  sends  you  his  regards,  and  Pavel, 
who  also  sends  you  his  regards  and  begs  you  not  to  be 
alarmed.  As  a  man  travels  on  his  way,  he  says,  the 
jails  constitute  his  resting  places,  established  and  main- 
tained by  the  solicitous  authorities!  Now,  granny,  let 
us  get  to  the  point.  Do  you  know  how  many  people  were 
arrested  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  do  not.  Why,  were  there  any  others  arrested 
besides  Pavel  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  He  was  the  forty-ninth! "  calmly  interjected  Yegor 
Ivanovich.  "  And  we  may  expect  about  ten  more  to  be 
taken !    This  gentleman  here,  for  example." 

"  Yes ;  me,  too !  "  said  Samoylov  with  a  frown. 

Nilovna  somehow  felt  relieved. 

''  He  isn't  there  alone,"  she  thought. 

When  she  had  dressed  herself,  she  entered  the  room 
and,  smiling  bravely,  said: 

"  I  guess  they  won't  detain  them  long,  if  they  arrested 
so  many." 

"  You  are  right,"  assented  Yegor  Ivanovich ;  "  and  if 

96 


MOTHER 

we  can  manage  to  spoil  this  mess  for  them,  we  can  make 
them  look  altogether  like  fools.  This  is  the  way  it  is, 
granny.  If  we  were  now  to  cease  smuggling  our  litera- 
ture into  the  factory,  the  gendarmes  would  take  advan- 
tage of  such  a  regrettable  circumstance,  and  would  use 
it  against  Pavel  and  his  comrades  in  jail." 

"  How  is  that  ?  Why  should  they  ?  "  the  mother  cried 
in  alarm. 

"  It's  very  plain,  granny,"  said  Yegor  Ivanovich  softly. 
"  Sometimes  even  gendarmes  reason  correctly.  Just 
think!  Pavel  was,  and  there  were  books  and  there 
were  papers ;  Pavel  is  not,  and  no  books  and  no  papers ! 
Ergo,  it  was  Pavel  who  distributed  these  books!  Aha! 
Then  they'll  begin  to  eat  them  all  alive.  Those  gen- 
darmes dearly  love  so  to  unman  a  man  that  what  re- 
mains of  him  is  only  a  shred  of  himself,  and  a  touching 
memory." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  said  the  mother  dejectedly.  "  O  God ! 
What's  to  be  done,  then  ?  " 

"  They  have  trapped  them  all,  the  devil  take  them ! " 
came  Samolov's  voice  from  the  kitchen.  "  Now  we 
must  continue  our  work  the  same  as  before^  and  not 
only  for  the  cause  itself,  but  also  to  save  our  com- 
rades!" 

"  And  there  is  no  one  to  do  the  work,"  added  Yegor, 
smiling.  "  We  have  first-rate  literature.  I  saw  to  that 
myself.  But  how  to  get  it  into  the  factory,  that's  the 
question !  '* 

"  They  search  everybody  at  the  gates  now,"  said 
Samoylov. 

The  mother  divined  that  something  was  expected  of 
her.  She  understood  that  she  could  be  useful  to  her  son, 
and  she  hastened  to  ask : 

"  Well,  now?    What  are  we  to  do?  " 
97 


MOTHER 

Samoylov  stood  in  the  doorway  to  answer. 

"  Pelagueya  Nilovna,  you  know  Marya  Korsunova, 
the  peddler." 

"I  do.     Well?" 

"  Speak  to  her ;  see  if  you  can't  get  her  to  smuggle 
in  our  wares." 

*'  We  could  pay  her,  you  know,"  interjected  Yegor. 

The  mother  waved  her  hands  in  negation. 

"  Oh,  no !  The  woman  is  a  chatterbox.  No !  If  they 
find  out  it  comes  from  me,  from  this  house — oh,  no !  " 

Then,  inspired  by  a  sudden  idea,  she  began  gladly 
and  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Give  it  to  me,  give  it  to  me.  I'll  manage  it  myself. 
I'll  find  a  way.  I  will  ask  Marya  to  make  me  her  assist- 
ant. I  have  to  earn  my  living,  I  have  to  work.  Don't  I  ? 
Well,  then,  I'll  carry  dinners  to  the  factory.  Yes,  I'll 
manage  it !  " 

Pressing  her  hands  to  her  bosom,  she  gave  hurried 
assurances  that  she  would  carry  out  her  mission  well 
and  escape  detection.  Finally  she  exclaimed  in  triumph : 
"  They'll  find  out — Pavel  Vlasov  is  away,  but  his  arm 
reaches  out  even  from  jail.    They'll  find  out! " 

All  three  became  animated.  Briskly  rubbing  his 
hands,  Yegor  smiled  and  said: 

"  It's  wonderful,  stupendous !  I  say,  granny,  it's 
superb — simply  magnificent !  " 

"  I'll  sit  in  jail  as  in  an  armchair,  if  this  succeeds," 
said  Samoylov,  laughing  and  rubbing  his  hands. 

'*  You  are  fine,  granny !  "  Yegor  hoarsely  cried. 

The  mother  smiled.  It  was  evident  to  her  that  if  the 
leaflets  should  continue  to  appear  in  the  factory,  the  au- 
thorities would  be  forced  to  recognize  that  it  was  not 
her  son  who  distributed  them.  And  feeling  assured  of 
success,  she  began  to  quiver  all  over  with  joy. 

98 


MOTHER 

"  When  you  go  to  see  Pavel,"  said  Yegor,  "  tell  him 
he  has  a  good  mother." 

"  ril  see  him  very  soon,  I  assure  you,"  said  Samoy- 
lov,  smiling. 

The  mother  grasped  his  hand  and  said  earnestly : 

"  Tell  him  that  I'll  do  everything,  everything  neces- 
sary.    I  want  him  to  know  it." 

"  And  suppose  they  don't  put  him  in  prison  ?  "  asked 
Yegor,  pointing  at  Samoylov. 

The  mother  sighed  and  said  sadly : 

''  Well,  then,  it  can't  be  helped !  " 

Both  of  them  burst  out  laughing.  And  when  sh6  real- 
ized her  ridiculous  blunder,  she  also  began  to  laugh  in 
embarrassment,  and  lowering  her  eyes  said  somewhat 
slyly : 

*'  Bothering  about  your  own  folk  keeps  you  from 
seeing  other  people  straight." 

**  That's  natural !  "  exclaimed  Yegor.  "  And  as  to 
Pavel,  you  need  not  worry  about  him.  He'll  come  out 
of  prison  a  still  better  man.  The  prison  is  our  place  of 
rest  and  study — things  we  have  no  time  for  when  we  are 
at  large.  I  was  in  prison  three  times,  and  each  time, 
although  I  got  scant  pleasure,  I  certainly  derived  benefit 
for  my  heart  and  mind.'* 

"  You  breathe  with  difficulty,"  she  said,  looking  affec- 
tionately at  his  open  face. 

"  There  are  special  reasons  for  that,"  he  replied,  rais- 
ing his  finger.  "  So  the  matter's  settled,  granny  ?  Yes  ? 
To-morrow  we'll  deliver  the  matter  to  you — and  the 
wheels  that  grind  the  centuried  darkness  to  destruction 
will  again  start  a-roUing.  Long  live  free  speech!  And 
long  live  a  mother's  heart!  And  in  the  meantime, 
good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Samoylov,  giving  her  a  vigorous 
99 


MOTHER 

handshake.  "  To  my  mother,  I  don't  dare  even  hint  about 
such  matters.     Oh,  no !  " 

"  Everybody  will  understand  in  time,"  said  Nilovna, 
wishing  to  please  him.     "  Everybody  will  understand." 

When  they  left,  she  locked  the  door,  and  kneeling  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  began  to  pray,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  patter  of  the  rain.  It  was  a  prayer 
without  words,  one  great  thought  of  men,  of  all  those 
people  whom  Pavel  introduced  into  her  life.  It  was  as 
if  they  passed  between  her  and  the  ikons  upon  which 
she  held  her  eyes  riveted.  And  they  all  looked  so 
simple,  so  strangely  near  to  one  another,  yet  so  lone  in 
life. 

Early  next  morning  the  mother  went  to  Marya  Kor- 
sunova.  The  peddler,  noisy  and  greasy  as  usual,  greeted 
her  with  friendly  sympathy. 

**  You  are  grieving?"  Marya  asked,  patting  the 
mother  on  the  back.  "  Now,  don't.  They  just  took  him, 
carried  him  off.  Where  is  the  calamity?  There  is  no 
harm  in  it.  It  used  to  be  that  men  were  thrown  into 
dungeons  for  stealing,  now  they  are  there  for  telling  the 
truth.  Pavel  may  have  said  something  wrong,  but  he 
stood  up  for  all,  and  they  all  know  it.  Don't  worry! 
They  don't  all  say  so,  but  they  all  know  a  good  man  when 
they  see  him.  I  was  going  to  call  on  you  right  along, 
but  had  no  time.  I  am  always  cooking  and  selling,  but 
will  end  my  days  a  beggar,  I  guess,  all  the  same.  My 
needs  get  the  best  of  me,  confound  them!  They  keep 
nibbling  and  nibbling  like  mice  at  a  piece  of  cheese.  No 
sooner  do  I  manage  to  scrape  together  ten  rubles  or  so, 
when  along  comes  some  heathen,  and  makes  away  with 
all  my  money.  Yes.  It's  hard  to  be  a  woman!  It's  a 
wretched  business !  To  live  alone  is  hard,  to  live  with 
anyone,  still  harder !  " 

lOO 


MOTHER 

"And  I  came  to  ask  you  to  take  mc  as  your -assist- 
ant," Vlasova  broke  in,  interrupting  her  prattle. 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Marya.  And  after  hearing 
her  friend's  explanation,  she  nodded  her  head  assentingly. 

"  That's  possible !  You  remember  how  you  used  to 
hide  me  from  my  husband?  Well,  now  I  am  going  to 
hide  you  from  want.  Everyone  ought  to  help  you,  for 
your  son  is  perishing  for  the  public  cause.  He  is  a  fine 
chap,  your  son  is !  They  all  say  so,  every  blessed  soul 
of  them.  And  they  all  pity  him.  I'll  tell  you  something. 
No  good  is  going  to  come  to  the  authorities  from  these 
arrests,  mark  my  word!  Look  what's  going  on  in  the 
factory!  Hear  them  talk!  They  are  in  an  ugly  mood, 
my  dear !  The  officials  imagine  that  when  they've  bitten 
at  a  man's  heel,  he  won't  be  able  to  go  far.  But  it  turns 
out  that  when  ten  men  are  hit,  a  hundred  men  get  angry. 
A  workman  must  be  handled  with  care !  He  may  go  on 
patiently  enduring  and  suffering  everything  that's  heaped 
upon  him  for  a  long,  long  time,  but  then  he  can  also 
explode  all  of  a  sudden ! " 


CHAPTER  X 

HE  upshot  of  the  conversation  was  that  the 
next  day  at  noon  the  mother  was  seen  in 
the  factory  yard  with  two  pots  of  eatables 
from  Marya's  cuHnary  estabhshment,  while 
Marya  herself  transferred  her  base  of  op- 
erations to  the  market  place. 

The  workmen  immediately  noticed  their  new  caterer. 
Some  of  them  approached  her  and  said  approvingly: 
''Gone  into  business,  Nilovna?" 
They  comforted  her,  arguing  that  Pavel  would  cer- 
tainly be  released  soon  because  his  cause  was  a  good  one. 
Others  filled  her  sad  heart  with  alarm  by  their  cautious 
condolence,  while  still  others  awoke  a  responsive  echo  in 
her  by  open4y  and  bitterly  abusing  the  manager  and  the 
gendarmes.  Some  there  were  who  looked  at  her  with 
a  vindictive  expression,  among  them  Isay  Gorbov,  who, 
speaking  through  his  teeth,  said: 

*'  If  I  were  the  governor,  I  would  have  your  son 
hanged !    Let  him  not  mislead  the  people !  " 

This  vicious  threat  went  through  her  like  the  chill 
blast  of  death.  She  made  no  reply,  glanced  at  his  small, 
freckled  face,  and  with  a  sigh  cast  down  her  eyes. 

She  observed  considerable  agitation  in  the  factory; 
the  workmen  gathered  in  small  groups  and  talked  in 
an  undertone,  with  great  animation ;  the  foremen  walked 
about  with  careworn  faces,  poking  their  noses  into  every 

I02 


MOTHER 

thing;  here  and  there  were  heard  angry  oaths  and  irri- 
tated laughter. 

Two  poHcemen  escorted  Samoylov  past  her.  He 
walked  with  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  the  other  smoothing 
his  red  hair. 

A  crowd  of  about  a  hundred  workmen  followed  him, 
and  plied  the  policemen  with  oaths  and  banter. 

"  Going  to  take  a  promenade,  Grisha  ?  "  shouted  one. 

"  They  do  honor  to  us  fellows !  "  chimed  in  another. 

"  When  we  go  to  promenading,  we  have  a  bodyguard 
to  escort  us,"  said  a  third,  and  uttered  a  harsh  oath. 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  pay  any  longer  to  catch  thieves !  " 
exclaimed  a  tall,  one-eyed  workingman  in  a  loud,  bitter 
voice.    "  So  they  take  to  arresting  honest  people." 

"  They  don't  even  do  it  at  night ! "  broke  in  another. 
"  They  come  and  drag  them  away  in  broad  daylight, 
without  shame,  the  impudent  scoundrels ! " 

The  policemen  walked  on  rapidly  and  sullenly,  trying 
to  avoid  the  sight  of  the  crowd,  and  feigning  not  to  hear 
the  angry  exclamations  showered  upon  them  from  all 
sides.  Three  workmen  carrying  a  big  iron  bar  hap- 
pened to  come  in  front  of  them,  and  thrusting  the  bar 
against  them,  shouted: 

"  Look  out  there,  fishermen !  " 

A§  he  passed  Nilovna,  Samoylov  nodded  to  her,  and 
smiling,  said: 

"  Behold,  this  is  Gregory,  the  servant  of  God,  being 
arrested." 

She  made  a  low  bow  to  him  in  silence.  These  men, 
so  young,  sober,  and  clever,  who  went  to  jail  with  a  smile, 
moved  her,  and  she  unconsciously  felt  for  them  the  pity- 
ing affection  of  a  mother.  It  pleased  her  to  hear  the 
sharp  comments  leveled  against  the  authorities.  She  saw 
therein  her  son's  influence. 

103 


MOTHER 

Leaving  the  factory,  she  passed  the  remainder  of  the 
day  at  Marya's  house,  assisting  her  in  her  work,  and 
listening  to  her  chatter.  Late  in  the  evening  she  returned 
home  and  found  it  bare,  chilly  and  disagreeable.  She 
moved  about  from  corner  to  corner,  unable  to  find  a 
resting  place,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  herself. 
Night  was  fast  approaching,  and  she  grew  worried,  be- 
cause Yegor  Ivanovich  had  not  yet  come  and  brought  her 
the  literature  which  he  had  promised. 

Behind  the  window,  gray,  heavy  flakes  of  spring  snow 
fluttered  and  settled  softly  and  noiselessly  upon  the  pane. 
Sliding  down  and  melting,  they  left  a  watery  track  in  their 
course.    The  mother  thought  of  her  son. 

A  cautious  rap  was  heard.  She  rushed  to  the  door, 
lifted  the  latch,  and  admitted  Sashenka.  She  had  not 
seen  her  for  a  long  while,  and  the  first  thing  that  caught 
her  eye  was  the  girl's  unnatural  stoutness. 

"  Good  evening !  "  she  said,  happy  to  have  a  visitor  at 
such  a  time,  to  relieve  her  solitude  for  a  part  of  the  night. 
**  You  haven't  been  around  for  a  long  while !  Were  you 
away  ?  " 

"  No,  I  was  in  prison,"  replied  the  girl,  smiling,  "  with 
Nikolay  Ivanovich.     Do  you  remember  him  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  do !  "  exclaimed  the  mother.  "  Ye- 
gor Ivanovich  told  me  yesterday  that  he  had  been  re- 
leased, but  I  knew  nothing  about  you.  Nobody  told  me 
iiat  you  were  there." 

'*  What's  the  good  of  telling?  I  should  like  to  change 
my  dress  before  Yegor  Ivanovich  comes ! "  said  the  girl, 
looking  around. 

"  You  are  all  wet." 

"  I've  brought  the  booklets." 

"  Give  them  here,  give  them  to  me !  "  cried  the  mother 
impatiently. 

104 


MOTHMR 

"  Directly,"  replied  the  girl.  She  untied  her  skirt 
and  shook  it,  and  like  leaves  from  a  tree,  down  fluttered 
a  lot  of  thin  paper  parcels  on  the  floor  around  her.  The 
mother  picked  them  up,  laughing,  and  said : 

**  I  was  wondering  what  made  you  so  stout.  Oh, 
what  a  heap  of  them  you  have  brought !  Did  you  come 
on  foot?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sashenka.  She  was  again  her  graceful, 
slender  self.  The  mother  noticed  that  her  cheeks  were 
shrunken,  and  that  dark  rings  were  under  her  unnaturally 
large  eyes. 

"  You  are  just  out  of  prison.  You  ought  to  rest,  and 
there  you  are  carrying  a  load  like  that  for  seven  versts !  " 
said  the  mother,  sighing  and  shaking  her  head. 

''  It's  got  to  be  done !  "  said  the  girl.  "  Tell  me, 
how  is  Pavel?  Did  he  stand  it  all  right?  He  wasn't 
very  much  worried,  was  he  ? "  Sashenka  asked  the 
question  without  looking  at  the  mother.  She  bent  her 
head  and  her  fingers  trembled  as  she  arranged  her 
hair. 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  mother.  "  You  can  rest  as- 
sured he  won't  betray  himself." 

"  How  strong  he  is ! "  murmured  the  girl  quietly. 

"  He  has  never  been  sick,"  replied  the  mother.  "  Why, 
you  are  all  in  a  shiver !  I'll  get  you  some  tea,  and  some 
raspberry  jam." 

"  That's  fine ! "  exclaimed  the  girl  with  a  faint  smile. 
"  But  don't  you  trouble !  It's  too  late.  Let  me  do  it 
myself." 

"What!  Tired  as  you  are?"  the  mother  reproached 
her,  hurrying  into  the  kitchen,  where  she  busied  herself 
with  the  samovar.  The  girl  followed  into  the  kitchen, 
sat  down  on  the  bench,  and  folded  her  hands  behind  her 
head  before  she  replied : 


MOTHER 

"  Yes,  I'm  very  tired  !  After  all,  the  prison  makes  one 
weak.  The  awful  thing  about  it  is  the  enforced  inactivity. 
There  is  nothing  more  tormenting.  We  stay  a  week,  five 
weeks.  We  know  how  much  there  is  to  be  done.  The 
people  are  waiting  for  knowledge.  We're  in  a  position 
to  satisfy  their  wants,  and  there  we  are  locked  up  in  a 
cage  like  animals !  That's  what  is  so  trying,  that's  what 
dries  up  the  heart !  " 

"Who  will  reward  you  for  all  this?'*  asked  the 
mother ;  and  with  a  sigh  she  answered  the  question  her- 
self. *'  No  one  but  God !  Of  course  you  don't  believe 
in  Him  either  ?  " 

"  No !  "  said  the  girl  briefly,  shaking  her  head. 

"And  I  don't  believe  you! "  the  mother  ejaculated  in 
a  sudden  burst  of  excitement.  Quickly  wiping  her  char- 
coal-blackened hands  on  her  apron  she  continued,  with 
deep  conviction  in  her  voice : 

"  You  don't  understand  your  own  faith !  How  could 
you  live  the  kind  of  life  you  are  living,  without  faith  in 
God?" 

A  loud  stamping  of  feet  and  a  murmur  of  voices  were 
heard  on  the  porch.  The  mother  started ;  the  girl  quickly 
rose  to  her  feet,  and  whispered  hurriedly : 

"  Don't  open  the  door !  If  it's  the  gendarmes,  you 
don*t  know  me.  I  walked  into  the  wrong  house,  came 
here  by  accident,  fainted  away,  you  undressed  me,  and 
found  the  books  around  me.    You  understand  ?  " 

"Why,  my  dear,  what  for?"  asked  the  mother 
tenderly. 

"  Wait  a  while !  "  said  Sashenka  listening.  "  I  think 
it's  Yegor." 

It  was  Yegor,  wet  and  out  of  breath. 

"  Aha  !  The  samovar !  "  he  cried.  "  That's  the  best 
thing  in  life,  granny!     You  here  already,  Sashenka?" 

io6 


MOTHER 

His  hoarse  voice  filled  the  little  kitchen.  He  slowly 
removed  his  heavy  ulster,  talking  all  the  time. 

"  Here,  granny,  is  a  girl  who  is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh 
of  the  police !  Insulted  by  the  overseer  of  the  prison,  she 
declared  that  she  would  starve  herself  to  death  if  he  did 
not  ask  her  pardon.  And  for  eight  days  she  went  with- 
out eating,  and  came  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  dying. 
It's  not  bad!  She  must  have  a  mighty  strong  little 
stomach." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  took  no  food  for  eight  days  in 
succession?"  asked  the  mother  in  amazement. 

"  I  had  to  get  him  to  beg  my  pardon,"  answered  the 
girl  with  a  stoical  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  Her  com- 
posure and  her  stern  persistence  seemed  almost  like  a 
reproach  to  the  mother. 

"  And  suppose  you  had  died  ?  "  she  asked  again. 

"  Well,  what  can  one  do  ?  "  the  girl  said  quietly.  **  He 
did  beg  my  pardon  after  all.  One  ought  never  to  for- 
give an  insult,  never !  " 

"  Ye-es '  "  responded  the  mother  slowly.  **  Here  are 
we  women  who  are  insulted  all  our  lives  long." 

"  I  have  unloaded  myself ! "  announced  Yegor  from 
the  other  room.  "  Is  the  samovar  ready  ?  Let  me  take 
it  in!" 

He  lifted  the  samovar  and  talked  as  he  carried  it. 

"  My  own  father  used  to  drink  not  less  than  twenty 
glasses  of  tea  a  day,  wherefor  his  days  upon  earth  were 
long,  peaceful,  and  strong;  for  he  lived  to  be  seventy- 
three  years  old,  never  having  suffered  from  any  ail- 
ment whatsoever.  In  weight  he  reached  the  respect- 
able figure  of  three  hundred  and  twenty  pounds,  and 
by  profession  he  was  a  sexton  in  the  village  of  Vosk- 
resensk." 

"  Are  you  Ivan's  son  ?  "  exclaimed  the  mother. 
8  107 


MOTHER 

"  I  am  that  very  mortal.  How  did  you  know  his 
name  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  am  a  Voskresenskian  myself !  " 

"  A  fellow  countrywoman  !    Who  were  your  people?  " 

"  Your  neighbors.    I  am  a  Sereguin." 

"Are  you  a  daughter  of  Nil  the  Lame?  I  thought 
your  face  was  familiar !  Why,  I  had  my  ears  pulled  by 
him  many  and  many  a  time  !  " 

They  stood  face  to  face  plying  each  other  with  ques- 
tions and  laughing.  Sashenka  looked  at  them  and  smiled, 
and  began  to  prepare  the  tea.  The  clatter  of  the  dishes 
recalled  the  mother  to  the  realities  of  the  present. 

"  Oh,  excuse  me !  I  quite  forgot  myself,  talking  about 
old  times.    It  is  so  sweet  to  recall  your  youth." 

"  It's  I  who  ought  to  beg  your  pardon  for  carrying  on 
like  this  in  your  house ! "  said  Sashenka.  "  But  it  is 
eleven  o'clock  already,  and  I  have  so  far  to  go." 

"Go  where?  To  the  city?"  the  mother  asked  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes." 

"What  are  you  talking  about!  It's  dark  and  wet, 
and  you  are  so  tired.  Stay  here  overnight.  Yegor  Ivano- 
vich  will  sleep  in  the  kitchen,  and  you  and  I  here." 

"  No,  I  must  go,"  said  the  girl  simply. 

"  Yes,  countrywoman,  she  must  go.  The  young  lady 
must  disappear.  It  would  be  bad  if  she  were  to  be  seen 
on  the  street  to-morrow." 

"  But  how  can  she  go?    By  herself?  " 

"  By  herself,"  said  Yegor,  laughing. 

The  girl  poured  tea  for  herself,  took  a  piece  of  rye 
bread,  salted  it,  and  started  to  eat,  looking  at  the  mother 
contemplatively. 

"  How  can  you  go  that  way  ?  Both  you  and  Natasha. 
I  wouldn't.    I'm  afraid  !  " 

io8 


MOTHJSR 

"  She's  afraid,  too,"  said  Yegor.  "  Aren't  you  afraid, 
Sasha?" 

"  Of  course !  " 

The  mother  looked  at  her,  then  at  Yegor,  and  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  What  strange " 

"  Give  me  a  glass  of  tea,  granny,"  Yegor  interrupted 
her. 

When  Sashenka  had  drunk  her  glass  of  tea,  she 
pressed  Yegor's  hand  in  silence,  and  walked  out  into  the 
kitchen.  The  mother  followed  her.  In  the  kitchen  Sa- 
shenka said : 

"  When  you  see  Pavel,  give  him  my  regards,  please." 
And  taking  hold  of  the  latch,  she  suddenly  turned  around, 
and  asked  in  a  low  voice :  "  May  I  kiss  you  ?  " 

The  mother  embraced  her  in  silence,  and  kissed  her 
warmly. 

"  Thank  you ! "  said  the  girl,  and  nodding  her  head, 
walked  out. 

Returning  to  the  room,  the  mother  peered  anxiously 
through  the  window.  Wet  flakes  of  snow  fluttered 
through  the  dense,  moist  darkness. 

"  And  do  you  remember  Prozorov,  the  storekeeper  ?  " 
asked  Yegor.  "  He  used  to  sit  with  his  feet  sprawling, 
and  blow  noisily  into  his  glass  of  tea.  He  had  a  red, 
satisfied,  sweet-covered  face." 

"  I  remember,  I  remember,"  said  the  mother,  coming 
back  to  the  table.  She  sat  down,  and  looking  at  Yegor 
with  a  mournful  expression  in  her  eyes,  she  spoke  pity- 
ingly :  "  Poor  Sashenka !  How  will  she  ever  get  to  the 
city  ?  " 

"  She  will  be  very  much  worn  out,"  Yegor  agreed. 
"  The  prison  has  shaken  her  health  badly.  She  was 
stronger  before.  Besides,  she  has  had  a  delicate  bring- 
ing up.    It  seems  to  me  she  has  already  ruined  her  lungs. 

109 


MOTHER 

There  is  something  in  her  face  that  reminds  one  of  con- 
sumption." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  The  daughter  of  a  landlord.  Her  father  is  a  rich 
man  and  a  big  scoundrel,  according  to  what  she  says.  I 
suppose  you  know,  granny,  that  they  want  to  marry  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"  She  and  Pavel.  Yes,  indeed !  But  so  far  they  have 
not  yet  been  able.  When  he  is  free,  she  is  in  prison,  and 
vice  versa,''    Yegor  laughed. 

"  I  didn't  know  it !  "  the  mother  replied  after  a  pause. 
"  Pasha  never  speaks  about  himself." 

Now  she  felt  a  still  greater  pity  for  the  girl,  and  look- 
ing at  her  guest  with  involuntary  hostility,  she  said : 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  her  home." 

"  Impossible !  "  Yegor  answered  calmly.  "  I  have  a 
heap  of  work  to  do  here,  and  the  whole  day  to-morrow, 
from  early  morning,  I  shall  have  to  walk  and  walk  and 
walk.    No  easy  job,  considering  my  asthma." 

"  She's  a  fine  girl !  "  said  the  mother,  vaguely  think- 
ing of  what  Yegor  had  told  her.  She  felt  hurt  that  the 
news  should  have  come  to  her,  not  from  her  son,  but 
from  a  stranger,  and  she  pressed  her  lips  together  tightly, 
and  lowered  her  eyebrows. 

"  Yes,  a  fine  girl !  "  Yegor  nodded  assent.  "  There's  a 
bit  of  the  noblewoman  in  her  yet,  but  it's  growing  less  and 
less  all  the  time.  You  are  sorry  for  her,  I  see.  What's 
the  use?  You  won't  find  heart  enough,  if  you  start  to 
grieve  for  all  of  us  rebels,  granny  dear.  Life  is  not  made 
very  easy  for  us,  I  admit.  There,  for  instance,  is  the  case 
of  a  friend  of  mine  who  returned  a  short  while  ago  from 
exile.  When  he  went  through  Novgorod,  his  wife  and 
child  awaited  him  in  Smolensk,  and  when  he  arrived  in 
Smolensk,  they  were  already  in  prison  in  Moscow.    Now 

no 


MOTHER 

it's  the  wife's  turn  to  go  to  Siberia.  To  be  a  revolution- 
ary and  to  be  married  is  a  very  inconvenient  arrangement 
— inconvenient  for  the  husband,  inconvenient  for  the  wife 
and  in  the  end  for  the  cause  also !  I,  too,  had  a  wife,  an 
excellent  woman,  but  five  years  of  this  kind  of  life  landed 
her  in  the  grave/' 

He  emptied  the  glass  of  tea  at  one  gulp,  and  con- 
tinued his  narrative.  He  enumerated  the  years  and 
months  he  had  passed  in  prison  and  in  exile,  told  of  vari- 
ous accidents  and  misfortunes,  of  the  slaughters  in  pris- 
ons, and  of  hunger  in  Siberia.  The  mother  looked  at  him, 
listened  with  wonderment  to  the  simple  way  in  which  he 
spoke  of  this  life,  so  full  of  suffering,  of  persecution,  of 
wrong,  and  abuse  of  men. 

"  Well,  let's  get  down  to  business !  " 

His  voice  changed,  and  his  face  grew  more  serious. 
He  asked  questions  about  the  way  in  which  the  mother 
intended  to  smuggle  the  literature  into  the  factory, 
and  she  marveled  at  his  clear  knowledge  of  all  the 
details. 

Then  they  returned  to  reminiscences  of  their  native 
village.  He  joked,  and  her  mind  roved  thoughtfully 
through  her  past.  It  seemed  to  her  strangely  like  a  quag- 
mire uniformly  strewn  with  hillocks,  which  were  covered 
with  poplars  trembling  in  constant  fear;  with  low  firs, 
and  with  white  birches  straying  between  the  hillocks. 
The  birches  grew  slowly,  and  after  standing  for  five 
years  on  the  unstable,  putrescent  soil,  they  dried  up,  fell 
down,  and  rotted  away.  She  looked  at  this  picture,  and 
a  vague  feeling  of  insufferable  sadness  overcame  her. 
The  figure  of  a  girl  with  a  sharp,  determined  face  stood 
before  her.  Now  the  figure  walks  somewhere  in  the 
darkness  amid  the  snowflakes,  solitary,  weary.  And  her 
son  sits  in  a  little  cell,  with  iron  gratings  over  the  win- 

III 


MOTHER 

dow.  Perhaps  he  is  not  yet  asleep,  and  is  thinking.  But 
he  is  thinking  not  of  his  mother.  He  has  one  nearer  to 
him  than  herself.  Heavy,  chaotic  thoughts,  like  a  tangled 
mass  of  clouds,  crept  over  her,  and  encompassed  her  and 
oppressed  her  bosom. 

"  You  are  tired,  granny !  Let's  go  to  bed !  "  said  Ye- 
gor, smiling. 

She  bade  him  good  night,  and  sidled  carefully  into 
the  kitchen,  carrying  away  a  bitter,  caustic  feeling  in  her 
heart. 

In  the  morning,  after  breakfast,  Yegor  asked  her: 

"  Suppose  they  catch  you  and  ask  you  where  you  got 
all  these  heretical  books  from.    What  will  you  say  ?  " 

"  I'll  say,  *  It's  none  of  your  business ! '  "  she  answered, 
smiling. 

"  You'll  never  convince  them  of  that ! "  Yegor  re- 
plied confidently.  "  On  the  contrary,  they  are  profoundly 
convinced  that  this  is  precisely  their  business.  They 
will  question  you  very,  very  diligently,  and  very,  very 
long!" 

''  I  won't  tell,  though !  " 

"  They'll  put  you  in  prison ! '' 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  Thank  God  that  I  am  good  at 
least  for  that,"  she  said  with  a  sigh.  ''  Thank  God !  Who 
needs  me  ?    Nobody !  '* 

"  H'm !  "  said  Yegor,  fixing  his  look  upon  her.  "  A 
good  person  ought  to  take  care  of  himself." 

"  I  couldn't  learn  that  from  you,  even  if  I  were  good," 
the  mother  replied,  laughing. 

Yegor  was  silent,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room ; 
then  he  walked  up  to  her  and  said : ''  This  is  hard,  country- 
woman !     I  feel  it,  it's  very  hard  for  you !  " 

"  It's  hard  for  everybody,"  she  answered,  with  a  wave 
of  her  hand.     "  Maybe  only  for  those  who  understand, 

112 


MOTHER 

it's  easier.  But  I  understand  a  little,  too.  I  understand 
what  it  is  the  good  people  want." 

"  If  you  do  understand,  granny,  then  it  means  that 
everybody  needs  you,  everybody !  "  said  Yegor  earnestly 
and  solemnly. 

She  looked  at  him  and  laughed  without  saying  any- 
thing. 


CHAPTER   XI 

T  noon,  calmly  and  in  a  businesslike  way 
she  put  the  books  around  her  bosom,  and 
so  skillfully  and  snugly  that  Yegor  an- 
nounced, smacking  his  lips  with  satisfac- 
tion : 

"  Sehr  gut!  as  the  German  says  when  he  has  drunk 
a  keg  of  beer.  Literature  has  not  changed  you,  granny. 
You  still  remain  the  good,  tall,  portly,  elderly  woman. 
May  all  the  numberless  gods  grant  you  their  blessings 
on  your  enterprise !  " 

Within  half  an  hour  she  stood  at  the  factory  gate, 
bent  with  the  weight  of  her  burden,  calm  and  assured. 
Two  guards,  irritated  by  the  oaths  and  raillery  of  the 
workingmen,  examined  all  who  entered  the  gate,  hand- 
ling them  roughly  and  swearing  at  them.  A  policeman 
and  a  thin-legged  man  with  a  red  face  and  alert  eyes 
stood  at  one  side.  The  mother,  shifting  the  rod  resting 
on  her  shoulders,  with  a  pail  suspended  from  either  end 
of  it,  watched  the  man  from  the  corner  of  her  eye.  She 
divined  that  he  was  a  spy. 

A  tall,  curly-headed  fellow  with  his  hat  throTNm 
back  over  his  neck,  cried  to  the  guardsmen  who  searched 
him: 

"  Search  the  head  and  not  the  pockets,  you  devils ! " 
"  There  is  nothing  but  lice  on  your  head,"  retorted 
one  of  the  guardsmen. 

114 


MOTHER 

"  Catching  lice  is  an  occupation  more  suited  to  you 
than  hunting  human  game ! "  rejoined  the  workman. 
The  spy  scanned  him  with  a  rapid  glance. 

"  Will  you  let  me  in  ?  "  asked  the  mother.  "  See,  Fm 
bent  double  with  my  heavy  load.  My  back  is  almost 
breaking." 

"Go  in!  Go  in!"  cried  the  guard  sullenly.  "She 
comes  with  arguments,  too." 

The  mother  walked  to  her  place,  set  her  pails  on  the 
ground,  and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  her  face  looked 
around  her. 

The  Gusev  brothers,  the  locksmiths,  instantly  came 
up  to  her,  and  the  older  of  them,  Vasily,  asked  aloud, 
knitting  his  eyebrows : 

**  Got  any  pirogs  ?  " 

"  I'll  bring  them  to-morrow,"  she  answered. 

This  was  the  password  agreed  upon.  The  faces  of 
the  brothers  brightened.  Ivan,  unable  to  restrain  him- 
self, exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  you  jewel  of  a  mother !  " 

Vasily  squatted  down  on  his  heels,  looked  into  the 
pot,  and  a  bundle  of  books  disappeared  into  his  bosom. 

"  Ivan !  "  he  said  aloud.  "  Let's  not  go  home,  let's 
get  our  dinner  here  from  her !  "  And  he  quickly  shoved 
the  books  into  the  legs  of  his  boots.  "  We  must  give  our 
new  peddler  a  lift,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  Ivan  assented,  and  laughed  aloud. 

The  mother  looked  carefully  about  her,  and  called 
out: 

"  Sour  cabbage  soup !  Hot  vermicelli  soup !  Roast 
meat ! " 

Then  deftly  and  secretly  taking  out  one  package  of 
books  after  the  other,  she  shoved  them  into  the  hands 
of  the  brothers.     Each  time  '^  bundle  disappeared  from 

115 


MOTHER 

her  hands,  the  sickly,  sneering  face  of  the  officer  of 
gendarmes  flashed  up  before  her  Hke  a  yellow  stain, 
like  the  flame  of  a  match  in  a  dark  room,  and  she 
said  to  him  in  her  mind,  with  a  feeling  of  malicious 
pleasure : 

"  Take  this,  sir !  "  And  when  she  handed  over  the 
last  package  she  added  with  an  air  of  satisfaction :  ''  And 
here  is  some  more,  take  it !  " 

Workmen  came  up  to  her  with  cups  in  their  hands, 
and  when  they  were  near  Ivan  and  Vasily,  they  began 
to  laugh  aloud.  The  mother  calmly  suspended  the  trans- 
fer of  the  books,  and  poured  sour  soup  and  vermicelli 
soup,  while  the  Gusevs  joked  her. 

"  How  cleverly  Nilovna  does  her  work  !  " 

"  Necessity  drives  one  even  to  catching  mice,"  re- 
marked a  stoker  somberly.  "  They  have  snatched  away 
your  breadgiver,  the  scoundrels!  Well,  give  us  three 
cents'  worth  of  vermicelli.  Never  mind,  mother !  You'll 
pull  through ! " 

"  Thanks  for  the  good  word ! "  she  returned,  smiling. 

He  walked  off  to  one  side  and  mumbled,  "  It  doesn't 
cost  me  much  to  say  a  good  word ! " 

"  But  there's  no  one  to  say  it  to ! "  observed  a  black- 
smith, with  a  smile,  and  shrugging  his  shoulders  in  sur- 
prise added :  ''  There's  a  life  for  you,  fellows !  There's 
no  one  to  say  a  good  word  to;  no  one  is  worth  it.  Yes, 
sir!'' 

Vasily  Gusev  rose,  wrapped  his  coat  tightly  around 
him,  and  exclaimed: 

**  What  I  ate  was  hot,  and  yet  I  feel  cold." 

Then  he  walked  away.  Ivan  also  rose,  and  ran  off 
whistling  merrily. 

Cheerful  and  smiling,  Nilovna  kept  on  calling  her 
wares : 

zi6 


MOTHER 

"  Hot !  Hot !  Sour  soup !  Vermicelli  soup !  Por- 
ridge ! " 

She  thought  of  how  she  would  tell  her  son  about  her 
first  experience;  and  the  yellow  face  of  the  officer  was 
still  standing  before  her,  perplexed  and  spiteful.  His 
black  mustache  twitched  uneasily,  and  his  upper  lip 
turned  up  nervously,  showing  the  gleaming  white  enamel 
of  his  clenched  teeth.  A  keen  joy  beat  and  sang  in  her 
heart  like  a  bird,  her  eyebrows  quivered,  and  continuing 
deftly  to  serve  her  customers  she  muttered  to  herself : 

*'  There's  more !    There's  more !  " 

Through  the  whole  day  she  felt  a  sensation  of  delight- 
ful newness  which  embraced  her  heart  as  with  a  fond- 
ling caress.  And  in  the  evening,  when  she  had  concluded 
her  work  at  Marya's  house,  and  was  drinking  tea,  the 
splash  of  horses'  hoofs  in  the  mud  was  heard,  and  the 
call  of  a  familiar  voice.  She  jumped  up,  hurried  into  the 
kitchen,  and  made  straight  for  the  door.  Somebody 
walked  quickly  through  the  porch;  her  eyes  grew  dim, 
and  leaning  against  the  doorpost,  she  pushed  the  door 
open  with  her  foot. 

"  Good  evening,  mother !  "  a  familiar,  melodious  voice 
rang  out,  and  a  pair  of  dry,  long  hands  were  laid  on 
her  shoulders. 

The  joy  of  seeing  Audrey  was  mingled  in  her  bosom 
with  the  sadness  of  disappointment;  and  the  two  con- 
trary feelings  blended  into  one  burning  sensation  which 
embraced  her  like  a  hot  wave.  She  buried  her  face  in 
Andrey's  bosom.  He  pressed  her  tightly  to  himself,  his 
hands  trembled.  The  mother  wept  quietly  without  speak- 
ing, while  he  stroked  her  hair,  and  spoke  in  his  musical 
voice : 

"  Don't  cry,  mother.  Don't  wring  my  heart.  Upon 
my   honest   word,   they   will   let  him  out   soon!     They 

117 


MOTHER 

haven't  a  thing  against  him ;  afl  the  boys  will  keep  quiet 
as  cooked  fish." 

Putting  his  long  arm  around  the  mother's  shoulders 
he  led  her  into  the  room,  and  nestling  up  against  him 
with  the  quick  gesture  of  a  squirrel,  she  wiped  the  tears 
from  her  face,  while  her  heart  greedily  drank  in  his 
tender  words. 

"  Pavel  sends  you  his  love.  He  is  as  well  and  cheer- 
ful as  can  be.  It's  ver\'  crowded  in  the  prison.  They 
have  thrown  in  more  than  a  hundred  of  our  people,  both 
from  here  and  from  the  city.  Three  and  four  persons 
have  been  put  into  one  cell.  The  prison  officials  are  rather 
a  good  set.  They  are  exhausted  with  the  quantity  of 
work  the  gendarmes  have  been  giving  them.  The  prison 
authorities  are  not  extremely  rigorous,  they  don't  order 
you  about  roughly.  They  simply  say :  *  Be  quiet  as  you 
can,  gentlemen.  Don't  put  us  in  an  awkward  position ! ' 
So  ever^-thing  goes  well.  We  talk  with  one  another,  we 
give  books  to  one  another,  and  we  share  our  food.  It's 
a  good  prison !  Old  and  dirty,  but  so  soft  and  so  light. 
The  criminals  are  also  nice  people ;  they  help  us  a  good 
deal.  Bukin,  four  others,  and  myself  were  released.  It 
got  too  crowded.  They'll  let  Pavel  go  soon,  too.  I'm 
telling  you  the  truth,  believe  me.  Vyesovshchikov  will 
be  detained  the  longest.  They  are  very  angr}-  at  him. 
He  scolds  and  swears  at  everv'body  all  the  time.  The 
gendarmes  can't  bear  to  look  at  him.  I  guess  he'll  get 
himself  into  court,  or  receive  a  sound  thrashing  some  day. 
Pavel  tries  to  dissuade  him.  *  Stop,  Xikolay ! '  he  says  to 
him.  *  Your  swearing  won't  reform  them.'  But  he 
bawls :  *  Wipe  them  off  the  face  of  the  earth  like  a 
pest  I  '  Pavel  conducts  himself  finely  out  there;  he 
treats  all  alike,  and  is  as  firm  as  a  rock!  They'll  soon 
let  him  go." 

xi8 


MOTHER 

"Soon?"  said  the  mother,  reUeved  no^-  and  smiling. 
**'  I  know  he'll  be  let  out  soon !  " 

'"Well,  if  you  know,  it's  all  right!  Give  rr.c  tea. 
mother.  Tell  me  hovr  you've  been,  how  you"ve  passed 
your  timxe." 

He  looked  at  her.  smiling  all  over,  and  seem.ed  so  near 
to  her,  such  a  splendid  fellow.  A  loving,  somewhat  mel- 
ancholy gleam  flashed  from  the  depths  of  his  round,  blue 
eyes. 

''I  love  you  dearly,  .\ndriusha I '"'  the  mother  said, 
heaving  a  deep  sigh,  as  she  looked  at  his  thin  face  gro- 
tesquely covered  with  tufts  of  hair. 

"People  are  satisfied  with  little  from  me  I  I  know 
you  love  me :  you  are  capable  of  loving  ever\-body ;  you 
have  a  great  heart."  said  the  Little  Russian,  rocking  in 
his  chair,  his  eyes  straying  about  the  room. 

*'  Xo,  I  love  you  ver\-  differently  I "  insisted  the 
mother.  '*  If  you  had  a  mother,  people  would  envy  her 
because  she  had  such  a  son." 

The  Little  Russian  swayed  his  head,  and  rabbed  it 
vigorously  with  both  hands. 

'■'I  have  a  mother,  somewhere  I  "  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  did  to-day?"  she  exclaimed, 
and  reddening  a  little,  her  voice  choking  with  satisfaction, 
she  quickly  recounted  how  she  had  smuggled  literature 
into  the  factor)-. 

For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her  in  am.azement  with 
his  eyes  wide  open ;  then  he  burst  out  into  a  loud  guftaw, 
stamped  his  feet,  thum.ped  his  head  with  his  fingers,  and 
cried  joyously : 

'■'Oho!  That's  no  joke  any  morel  That's  business  I 
Won't  Pavel  be  glad,  though !  Oh,  you're  a  trump. 
That's  good,  m.cther!     You  have  no  idea  hozi-  good  it 

119 


MOTHER 

is !  Both  for  Pavel  and  all  who  were  arrested  with 
him!" 

He  snapped  his  fingers  in  ecstasy,  whistled,  and  fairly 
doubled  over,  all  radiant  with  joy.  His  delight  evoked 
a  vigorous  response  from  the  mother. 

''  My  dear,  my  Andriusha !  "  she  began,  as  if  her  heart 
had  burst  open,  and  gushed  over  merrily  with  a  limpid 
stream  of  living  words  full  of  serene  joy.  **  IVe  thought 
all  my  life,  *  Lord  Christ  in  heaven !  what  did  I  live  for?  * 
Beatings,  work !  I  saw  nothing  except  my  husband.  I 
knew  nothing  but  fear !  And  how  Pasha  grew  I  did  not 
see,  and  I  hardly  know  whether  I  loved  him  when  my 
husband  was  alive.  All  my  concerns,  all  my  thoughts 
were  centered  upon  one  thing — to  feed  my  beast,  to  pro- 
pitiate the  master  of  m}^  life  with  enough  food,  pleasing 
to  his  palate,  and  served  on  time,  so  as  not  to  incur  his 
displeasure,  so  as  to  escape  the  terrors  of  a  beating,  to 
get  him  to  spare  me  but  once!  But  I  do  not  remember 
that  he  ever  did  spare  me.  He  beat  me  so — not  as  a  wife 
is  beaten,  but  as  one  whom  you  hate  and  detest.  Twenty 
years  I  lived  like  that,  and  what  was  up  to  the  time  of 
my  marriage  I  do  not  recall.  I  remember  certain  things, 
but  I  see  nothing !  I  am  as  a  blind  person.  Yegor  Ivano- 
vich  was  here — we  are  from  the  same  village — and  he 
spoke  about  this  and  about  that.  I  remember  the  houses, 
the  people,  but  how  they  lived,  what  they  spoke  about, 
what  happened  to  this  one  and  what  to  that  one — I  forget, 
I  do  not  see !  I  remember  fires — two  fires.  It  seems  that 
everything  has  been  beaten  out  of  me,  that  my  soul  has 
been  locked  up  and  sealed  tight.  It's  grown  blind,  it  does 
not  hear !  " 

Her  quick-drawn  breath  was  almost  a  sob.  She  bent 
forward,  and  continued  in  a  lowered  voice :  "  When  my 
husband  died  I  turned  to  my  son ;  but  he  went  into  this 

I20 


MOTHER 

business,  and  I  was  seized  with  a  pity  for  him,  such  a 
yearning  pity — for  if  he  should  perish,  how  was  I  to  Hve 
alone  ?  What  dread,  what  fright  I  have  undergone !  My 
heart  was  rent  when  I  thought  of  his  fate. 

"  Our  woman's  love  is  not  a  pure  love !  We  love  that 
which  we  need.  And  here  are  you!  You  are  grieving 
about  your  mother.  What  do  you  want  her  for?  And 
all  the  others  go  and  suffer  for  the  people,  they  go  to 
prison,  to  Siberia,  they  die  for  them,  many  are  hung. 
Young  girls  walk  alone  at  night,  in  the  snow,  in  the  mud, 
in  the  rain.  They  walk  seven  versts  from  the  city  to 
our  place.  Who  drives  them?  Who  pursues  them? 
They  love!  You  see,  theirs  is  pure  love!  They  be- 
lieve! Yes,  indeed,  they  believe,  Andriusha!  But  here 
am  I^I  can't  love  like  that!  I  love  my  own,  the  near 
ones !  " 

"  Yes,  you  can ! "  said  the  Little  Russian,  and  turn- 
ing away  his  face  from  her,  he  rubbed  his  head,  face,  and 
eyes  vigorously  as  was  his  wont.  "  Everybody  loves 
those  who  are  near,"  he  continued.  "  To  a  large  heart, 
what  is  far  is  also  near.  You,  mother,  are  capable  of  a 
great  deal.    You  have  a  large  capacity  of  motherliness !  " 

"  God  grant  it !  "  she  said  quietly.  "  I  feel  that  it  is 
good  to  live  like  that !  Here  are  you,  for  instance,  whom 
I  love.  Maybe  I  love  you  better  than  I  do  Pasha.  He  is 
always  so  silent.  Here  he  wants  to  get  married  to  Sa- 
shenka,  for  example,  and  he  never  told  me,  his  mother, 
a  thing  about  it." 

"  That's  not  true,"  the  Little  Russian  retorted  abrupt- 
ly. "  I  know  it  isn't  true.  It's  true  he  loves  her,  and  she 
loves  him.  But  marry?  No,  they  are  not  going  to 
marry !  She'd  want  to,  but  Pavel — he  can't !  He  doesn't 
want  to !  " 

"  See  how  you  are ! "  said  the  mother  quietly,  and  she 

121 


MOTHER 

fixed  her  eyes  sadly  and  musingly  on  the  Little  Russian's 
face.  "  You  see  how  you  are !  You  offer  up  your  own 
selves ! " 

''  Pavel  is  a  rare  man !  "  the  Little  Russian  uttered  in 
a  low  voice.     "  He  is  a  man  of  iron !  " 

**  Now  he  sits  in  prison,"  continued  the  mother  reflec- 
tively. "  It's  awful,  it's  terrible !  It's  not  as  it  used  to 
be  before !  Life  altogether  is  not  as  it  used  to  be,  and 
the  terror  is  different  from  the  old  terror.  You  feel  a 
pity  for  everybody,  and  you  are  alarmed  for  everybody! 
And  the  heart  is  different.  The  soul  has  opened  its  eyes, 
it  looks  on,  and  is  sad  and  glad  at  the  same  time.  There's 
much  I  do  not  understand,  and  I  feel  so  bitter  and  hurt 
that  you  do  not  believe  in  the  Lord  God.  Well,  I  guess 
I  can't  help  that !  But  I  see  and  know  that  you  are  good 
people.  And  you  have  consecrated  yourselves  to  a  stern 
life  for  the  sake  of  the  people,  to  a  life  of  hardship  for 
the  sake  of  truth.  The  truth  you  stand  for,  I  com- 
prehend :  as  long  as  there  will  be  the  rich,  the  people 
will  get  nothing,  neither  truth  nor  happiness,  nothing! 
Indeed,  that's  so,  Andriusha!  Here  am  I  living  among 
you,  while  all  this  is  going  on.  Sometimes  at  night  my 
thoughts  wander  off  to  my  past.  I  think  of  my  youthful 
strength  trampled  under  foot,  of  my  young  heart  torn 
and  beaten,  and  I  feel  sorry  for  myself  and  embittered. 
But  for  all  that  I  live  better  now,  I  see  myself  more  and 
more,  I  feel  myself  more." 

The  Little  Russian  arose,  and  trying  not  to  scrape 
with  his  feet,  began  to  walk  carefully  up  and  down  the 
room,  tall,  lean,  absorbed  in  thought. 

"  Well  said !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice.  "  Very 
well !  There  was  a  young  Jew  in  Kerch  who  wrote 
verses,  and  once  he  wrote : 


122 


MOTHER 

**  And  the  innocently  slain, 
Truth  will  raise  to  life  again. 

"  He  himself  was  killed  by  the  police  in  Kerch,  but 
that's  not  the  point.  He  knew  the  truth  and  did  a  great 
deal  to  spread  it  among  the  people.  So  here  you  are  one 
of  the  innocently  slain.     He  spoke  the  truth !  " 

"  There,  I  am  talking  now,"  the  mother  continued. 
"  I  talk  and  do  not  hear  myself,  don't  believe  my  own 
ears !  All  my  life  I  was  silent,  I  always  thought  of  one 
thing — how  to  live  through  the  day  apart,  how  to  pass 
it  without  being  noticed,  so  that  nobody  should  touch 
me !  And  now  I  think  about  everything.  Maybe  I  don't 
understand  your  affairs  so  very  well ;  but  all  are  near  me, 
I  feel  sorry  for  all,  and  I  wish  well  to  all.  And  to  you, 
Andriusha,  more  than  all  the  rest." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  pressed  it  tightly,  and  quickly 
turned  aside,.  Fatigued  with  emotion  and  agitation,  the 
mother  leisurely  and  silently  washed  the  cups;  and  her 
breast  gently  glowed  with  a  bold  feeling  that  warmed  her 
heart. 

Walking  up  and  down  the  room  the  Little  Russian 
said: 

"  Mother,  why  don't  you  sometimes  try  to  befriend 
Vyesovshchikov  and  be  kind  to  him  ?  He  is  a  fellow  that 
needs  it.  His  father  sits  in  prison — a  nasty  little  old  man. 
Nikolay  sometimes  catches  sight  of  him  through  the  win- 
dow and  he  begins  to  swear  at  him.  That's  bad,  you 
know.  He  is  a  good  fellow,  Nikolay  is.  He  is  fond  of 
dogs,  mice,  and  all  sorts  of  animals,  but  he  does  not  like 
people.    That's  the  pass  to  which  a  man  can  be  brought." 

"  His  mother  disappeared  without  a  trace,  his  father 
is  a  thief  and  a  drunkard,"  said  Nilovna  pensively. 

When  Audrey  left  to  go  to  bed,  the  mother,  without 
9  123 


MOTHER 

being  noticed,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  him,  and 
after  about  half  an  hour,  she  asked  quietly,  "Are  you 
asleep,  Andriusha?  " 

"No.     Why?" 

"  Nothing !    Good  night !  " 

"  Thank  you,  mother,  thank  you ! "  he  answered 
gently. 


CHAPTER   XII 

HE  next  day  when  Nilovna  came  up  to  the 
gates  of  the  factory  with  her  load,  the 
guides  stopped  her  roughly,  and  ordering 
her  to  put  the  pails  down  on  the  ground, 
made  a  careful  examination. 
"  My  eatables  will  get  cold,"  she  observed  calmly,  as 
they  felt  around  her  dress. 

"  Shut  up !  "  said  a  guard  sullenly. 
Another  one,  tapping  her  lightly  on  the  shoulder,  said 
with  assurance: 

"  Those  books  are  thrown  across  the  fence,  I  say !  " 
Old  man  Sizov  came  up  to  her  and  looking  around 
said  in  an  undertone : 

"  Did  you  hear,  mother  ?  " 
*'What?'^ 

"  About  the  pamphlets.  They've  appeared  again. 
They've  just  scattered  them  all  over  like  salt  over  bread. 
Much  good  those  arrests  and  searches  have  done!  My 
nephew  Mazin  has  been  hauled  away  to  prison,  your 
son's  been  taken.  Now  it's  plain  it  isn't  he !  "  And  strok- 
ing his  beard  Sizov  concluded,  "  It's  not  people,  but 
thoughts,  and  thoughts  are  not  fleas;  you  can't  catch 
them ! " 

He  gathered  his  beard  in  his  hand,  looked  at  her,  and 
said  as  he  walked  away: 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  see  me  some  time  ?  I  guess 
you  are  lonely  all  by  yourself," 

125 


MOTHMR 

She  thanked  him,  and  calling  her  wares,  she  sharply 
observed  the  unusual  animation  in  the  factory.  The 
workmen  were  all  elated,  they  formed  little  circles,  then 
parted,  and  ran  from  one  group  to  another.  Animated 
voices  and  happy,  satisfied  faces  all  around!  The  soot- 
filled  atmosphere  was  astir  and  palpitating  with  some- 
thing bold  and  daring.  Now  here,  now  there,  approving 
ejaculations  were  heard,  mockery,  and  sometimes  threats. 

"  Aha !  It  seems  truth  doesn't  agree  with  them,"  she 
heard  one  say. 

The  younger  men  were  in  especially  good  spirits, 
while  the  elder  workmen  had  cautious  smiles  on  their 
faces.  The  authorities  walked  about  with  a  troubled  ex- 
pression, and  the  police  ran  from  place  to  place.  When 
the  workingmen  saw  them,  they  dispersed,  and  walked 
away  slowly,  or  if  they  remained  standing,  they  stopped 
their  conversation,  looking  silently  at  the  agitated,  angry 
faces. 

The  workingmen  seemed  for  some  reason  to  be  all 
washed  and  clean.  The  figure  of  Gusev  loomed  high, 
and  his  brother  stalked  about  like  a  drake,  and  roared 
with  laughter.  The  joiner's  foreman,  Vavilov,  and  the 
record  clerk,  Isay,  walked  slowly  past  the  mother.  The 
little,  wizened  clerk,  throwing  up  his  head  and  turning 
his  neck  to  the  left,  looked  at  the  frowning  face  of  the 
foreman,  and  said  quickly,  shaking  his  reddish  beard : 

"  They  laugh,  Ivan  Ivanovich.  It's  fun  to  them. 
They  are  pleased,  although  it's  no  less  a  matter  than  the 
destruction  of  the  government,  as  the  manager  said. 
What  must  be  done  here,  Ivan  Ivanovich,  is  not  merely 
to  weed  but  to  plow !  " 

Vavilov  walked  with  his  hands  folded  behind  his 
back,  and  his  fingers  tightly  clasped. 

"  You  print  there  what  you  please,  you  blackguards !  " 
126 


MOTHER 

he  cried  aloud.    "  But  don't  you  dare  say  a  word  about 
me!" 

Vasily  Gusev  came  up  to  Nilovna  and  declared: 

"  I  am  going  to  eat  with  you  again.  Is  it  good  to- 
day ?  "  And  lowering  his  head  and  screwing  up  his  eyes, 
he  added  in  an  undertone :  '*  You  see  ?  It  hit  exactly ! 
Good  !     Oh,  mother,  very  good !  " 

She  nodded  her  head  affably  to  him,  flattered  that 
Gusev,  the  sauciest  fellow  in  the  village,  addressed  her 
with  a  respectful  plural  "you,"  as  he  talked  to  her  in 
secret.  The  general  stir  and  animation  in  the  factory  also 
pleased  her,  and  she  thought  to  herself :  "  What  would 
they  do  without  me  ?  " 

Three  common  laborers  stopped  at  a  short  distance 
from  her,  and  one  of  them  said  with  disappointment  in 
his  voice :  "  I  couldn't  find  any  anywhere !  " 

Another  remarked :  "  I'd  like  to  hear  it,  though.  I 
can't  read  myself,  but  I  understand  it  hits  them  just  in 
the  right  place." 

The  third  man  looked  around  him,  and  said :  "  Let's 
go  into  the  boiler  room.    I'll  read  it  for  you  there !  " 

"  It  works ! "  Gusev  whispered,  a  wink  lurking  in 
his  eye. 

Nilovna  came  home  in  gay  spirits.  She  had  now 
seen  for  herself  how  people  are  moved  by  books. 

"  The  people  down  there  are  sorry  they  can't  read," 
she  said  to  Audrey,  *'  and  here  am  I  who  could  when  I 
was  young,  but  have  forgotten." 

"  Learn  over  again,  then,"  suggested  the  Little  Russian. 

"  At  my  age  ?  What  do  you  want  to  make  fun  of 
me  for?" 

Andrey,  however,  took  a  book  from  the  shelf  and 
pointing  with  the  tip  of  a  knife  at  a  letter  on  the  cover, 
asked:  "  What's  this ?  " 

127 


MOTHER 

"  R,"  she  answered,  laughing. 

"And  this?" 

"  A." 

She  felt  awkward,  hurt,  and  offended.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  Anihey's  eyes  were  laughing  at  her,  and  she 
avoided  their  look.  But  his  voice  sounded  soft  and  calm 
in  her  ears.  She  looked  askance  at  his  face,  once,  and  a 
second  time.    It  was  earnest  and  serious. 

"  Do  you  really  wash  to  teach  me  to  read  ?  "  she  asked 
with  an  involuntary  smile. 

"Why  not?"  he  responded.  "Try!  If  you  once 
knew  how  to  read,  it  will  come  back  to  you  easily.  *  If 
no  miracle  it's  no  ill,  and  if  a  miracle  better  still ! ' " 

"  But  they  say  that  one  does  not  become  a  saint  by 
looking  at  a  sacred  image !  " 

"  Eh,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  nodding  his  head. 
"  There  are  proverbs  galore !  For  example :  '  The  less 
you  know,  the  better  you  sleep  ' — isn't  that  it  ?  Proverbs 
are  the  material  the  stomach  thinks  with;  it  makes  bridles 
for  the  soul,  to  be  able  to  control  it  better.  What  the 
stomach  needs  is  a  rest,  and  the  soul  needs  freedom. 
V/hat  letter  is  this  ?  " 

"  M." 

"Yes,  see  how  it  sprawls.    And  this?" 

Straining  her  eyes  and  moving  her  eyebrows  heavily, 
she  recalled  with  an  effort  the  forgotten  letters,  and  un- 
consciously yielding  to  the  force  of  her  exertions,  she 
was  carried  away  by  them,  and  forgot  herself.  But  soon 
her  eyes  grew  tired.  At  first  they  became  moist  with 
tears  of  fatigue ;  and  then  tears  of  sorrow  rapidly  dropped 
down  on  the  page. 

"  I'm  learning  to  read,"  she  said,  sobbing.  "  It's  time 
for  me  to  die,  and  I'm  just  learning  to  read !  " 

"  You  mustn't  cry,"  said  the  Little  Russian  gently. 
128 


MOTHER 

"  It  wasn't  your  fault  you  lived  the  way  you  did ;  and 
yet  you  understand  that  you  lived  badly.  There  are 
thousands  of  people  who  could  live  better  than  you,  but 
who  live  like  cattle  and  then  boast  of  how  well  they  live. 
But  what  is  good  in  their  lives  ?  To-day,  their  day's  work 
over,  they  eat,  and  to-morrow,  their  day's  work  over,  they 
eat,  and  so  on  through  all  their  years — work  and  eat, 
work  and  eat !  Along  with  this  they  bring  forth  children, 
and  at  first  amuse  themselves  with  them,  but  when  they, 
too,  begin  to  eat  much,  they  grow  surly  and  scold :  *  Come 
on,  you  gluttons !  Hurry  along !  Grow  up  quick !  It's 
time  you  get  to  work ! '  and  they  would  like  to  make 
beasts  of  burden  of  their  children.  But  the  children  be- 
gin to  work  for  their  own  stomachs,  and  drag  their  lives 
along  as  a  thief  drags  a  worthless  stolen  mop.  Their 
souls  are  never  stirred  with  joy,  never  quickened  with  a 
thought  that  melts  the  heart.  Some  live  like  mendicants 
— always  begging;  some  like  thieves — always  snatching 
out  of  the  hands  of  others.  They've  made  thieves'  laws, 
placed  men  with  sticks  over  the  people,  and  said  to  them : 
'  Guard  our  laws ;  they  are  very  convenient  laws ;  they 
permit  us  to  suck  the  blood  out  of  the  people ! '  They 
try  to  squeeze  the  people  from  the  outside,  but  the  people 
resist,  and  so  they  drive  the  rules  inside  so  as  to  crush 
the  reason,  too." 

Leaning  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  looking  into  the 
mother's  face  with  pensive  eyes,  he  continued  in  an  even, 
flowing  voice : 

"  Only  those  are  men  who  strike  the  chains  from  off 
man's  body  and  from  off  his  reason.  And  now  you,  too, 
are  going  into  this  work  according  to  the  best  of  your 
ability." 

"I?     Now,  now!     How  can  I?" 

"Why  not?     It's  just  like  rain.     Every  drop  goes 

I2Q 


MOTHER 

to  nourish  the  seed!  And  when  you  are  able  to  read, 
then — "  He  stopped  and  began  to  laugh ;  then  rose  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Yes,  you  must  learn  to  read !  And  when  Pavel  gets 
back,  won't  you  surprise  him,  eh  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Andriusha !  For  a  young  man  everything  is 
simple  and  easy!  But  when  you  have  lived  to  my  age, 
you  have  lots  of  trouble,  little  strength,  and  no  mind  at 
all  left." 

In  the  evening  the  Little  Russian  went  out.  The 
mother  lit  a  lamp  and  sat  down  at  a  table  to  knit  stock- 
ings. But  soon  she  rose  again,  walked  irresolutely  into 
the  kitchen,  bolted  the  outer  door,  and  straining  her  eye- 
brows walked  back  into  the  living  room.  She  pulled 
down  the  window  curtains,  and  taking  a  book  from  the 
shelf,  sat  down  at  the  table  again,  looked  around,  bent 
down  over  the  book,  and  began  to  move  her  lips.  When 
she  heard  a  noise  on  the  street,  she  started,  clapped  the 
book  shut  with  the  palm  of  her  hand,  and  listened  in- 
tently. And  again,  now  closing,  now  opening  her  eyes, 
she  whispered : 

"  E— z— a." 

With  even  precision  and  stern  regularity  the  dull  tick 
of  the  pendulum  marked  the  dying  seconds. 

A  knock  at  the  door  was  heard ;  the  mother  jumped 
quickly  to  her  feet,  thrust  the  book  on  the  shelf,  and 
walking  up  to  the  door  asked  anxiously : 

"Who's  there?" 


CHAPTER   XIII 

YBIN  came  in,  greeted  her,  and  stroking 
his  beard  in  a  dignified  manner  and  peep- 
ing into  the  room  with  his  dark  eyes,  re- 
marked : 

"  You  used  to  let  people  into  your  house 
before,    without   inquiring   who   they   were.     Are    you 
alone?" 
"  Yes." 

"You  are?  I  thought  the  Little  Russian  was  here. 
I  saw  him  to-day.  The  prison  doesn't  spoil  a  man.  Stu- 
pidity, that's  what  spoils  most  of  all." 

He  walked  into  the  room,  sat  down  and  said  to  the 
mother : 

"  Let's  have  a  talk  together.  I  have  something  to  tell 
you.  I  have  a  theory ! "  There  was  a  significant  and 
mysterious  expression  in  his  face  as  he  said  this.  It  filled 
the  mother  with  a  sense  of  foreboding.  She  sat  down 
opposite  him  and  waited  in  mute  anxiety  for  him  to 
speak. 

"  Everything  costs  money !  "  he  began  in  his  gruff, 
heavy  voice.  "  It  takes  money  to  be  born ;  it  takes  money 
to  die.  Books  and  leaflets  cost  money,  too.  Now,  then, 
do  you  know  where  all  this  money  for  the  books  comes 
from?" 

''  No,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  mother  in  a  low  voice, 
anticipating  danger. 

"  Nor  do  I !     Another  question  I've  got  to  ask  is : 
131 


MOTHER 

Who  writes  those  books?  The  educated  folks.  The 
masters !  "  Rybin  spoke  curtly  and  decisively,  his  voice 
grew  gruffer  and  gruffer,  and  his  bearded  face  reddened 
as  with  the  strain  of  exertion.  "  Now,  then,  the  masters 
write  the  books  and  distribute  them.  But  the  writings 
in  the  books  are  against  these  very  masters.  Now,  tell 
me,  why  do  they  spend  their  money  and  their  time  to 
stir  up  the  people  against  themselves  ?    Eh  ?  " 

Nilovna  blinked,  then  opened  her  eyes  wide  and  ex- 
claimed in  fright: 

"What  do  you  think?    Tell  me." 

"  Aha !  "  exclaimed  Rybin,  turning  in  his  chair  like  a 
bear.  "  There  you  are !  When  I  reached  that  thought 
I  was  seized  with  a  cold  shiver,  too." 

"  Now  what  is  it  ?  Tell  me !  Did  you  find  out 
anything  ?  " 

"  Deception !  Fraud !  I  feel  It.  It's  deception.  I 
know  nothing,  but  I  feel  sure  there's  deception  in  it. 
Yes!  The  masters  are  up  to  some  clever  trick,  and  I 
want  nothing  of  it.  I  want  the  truth.  I  understand 
what  it  is ;  I  understand  it.  But  I  will  not  go  hand  in 
hand  with  the  masters.  They'll  push  me  to  the  front 
when  it  suits  them,  and  then  walk  over  my  bones  as  over 
a  bridge  to  get  where  they  want  to." 

At  the  sound  of  his  morose  words,  uttered  in  a  stub- 
born, thick,  and  forceful  voice,  the  mother's  heart  con- 
tracted in  pain. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  she  exclaimed  in  anguish.  "  Where 
is  the  truth?  Can  it  be  that  Pavel  does  not  understand? 
And  all  those  who  come  here  from  the  city — is  it  possible 
that  they  don't  understand  ?  "  The  serious,  honest  faces 
of  Yegor,  Nikolay  Ivanovich,  and  Sashenka  passed  be- 
fore her  mind,  and  her  heart  fluttered. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  said,  shaking  her  head  as  if  to  dismiss 
132 


MOTHER 

the  thought.  "I  can't  believe  it.  They  are  for  truth 
and  honor  and  conscience;  they  have  no  evil  designs; 
oh,  no!" 

"  Whom  are  you  talking  about  ? "  asked  Rybin 
thoughtfully. 

*'  About  all  of  them !  Every  single  one  I  met.  They 
are  not  the  people  who  will  traffic  in  human  blood,  oh, 
no !  "  Perspiration  burst  out  on  her  face,  and  her  fingers 
trembled. 

"  You  are  not  looking  in  the  right  place,  mother ;  look 
farther  back,"  said  Rybin,  drooping  his  head.  "  Those 
who  are  directly  working  in  the  movement  may  not  know 
anything  about  it  themselves.  They  think  it  must  be  so ; 
they  have  the  truth  at  heart.  But  there  may  be  people 
behind  them  who  are  looking  out  only  for  their  own 
selfish  interests.  Men  won't  go  against  themselves." 
And  with  the  firm  conviction  of  a  peasant  fed  on  cen- 
turies of  distrust,  he  added :  "  No  good  will  ever  come 
from  the  masters !    Take  my  word  for  it !  " 

"  What  concoction  has  your  brain  put  together  ?  "  the 
mother  asked,  again  seized  with  anxious  misgiving. 

"  I  ?  "  Rybin  looked  at  her,  was  silent  for  a  while, 
then  repeated :  "  Keep  away  from  the  masters !  That's 
what ! "  He  grew  morosely  silent  again,  and  seemed 
to  shrink  within  himself. 

"  I'll  go  away,  mother,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  **'  I 
wanted  to  join  the  fellows,  to  work  along  with  them. 
I'm  fit  for  the  work.  I  can  read  and  write.  I'm  perse- 
vering and  not  a  fool.  And  the  main  thing  is,  I  know 
what  to  say  to  people.  But  now  I  will  go.  I  can't  be- 
lieve, and  therefore  I  must  go.  I  know,  mother,  that 
the  people's  souls  are  foul  and  besmirched.  All  live  on 
envy,  all  want  to  gorge  themselves;  and  since  there's 
little  to  eat,  each  seeks  to  eat  the  other  up." 

133 


MOTHER 

He  let  his  head  droop,  and  remained  absorbed  in 
thought  for  a  while.     Finally  he  said : 

"  I'll  go  all  by  myself  through  village  and  hamlet  and 
stir  the  people  up.  It's  necessary  that  the  people  should 
take  the  matter  in  their  own  hands  and  get  to  work 
themselves.  Let  them  but  understand — they'll  find  a  way 
themselves.  And  so,  I'm  going  to  try  to  make  them  un- 
derstand. There  is  no  hope  for  them  except  in  them- 
selves ;  there's  no  understanding  for  them  except  in  their 
own  understanding !    And  that's  the  truth !  " 

"  They  will  seize  you ! "  said  the  mother  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  They  will  seize  me,  and  let  me  out  again.  And 
then  ril  go  ahead  again !  " 

'*  The  peasants  themselves  will  bind  you,  and  you  will 
be  thrown  into  jail." 

"  Well,  I'll  stay  in  jail  for  a  time,  then  be  released, 
and  I'll  go  on  again.  As  for  the  peasants,  they'll  bind 
me  once,  twice,  and  then  they  will  understand  that 
they  ought  not  to  bind  me,  but  listen  to  me.  I'll 
tell  them :  "  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  me ;  I  want  you 
just  to  listen  to  me!"  And  if  they  listen,  they  will 
believe." 

Both  the  mother  and  Rybin  spoke  slowly,  as  if  testing 
every  word  before  uttering  it. 

''  There's  little  joy  for  me  in  this,  mother,"  said  Ry- 
bin. "  I  have  lived  here  of  late,  and  gobbled  up  a  deal 
of  stuff.  Yes ;  I  understand  some,  too !  And  now  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  burying  a  child." 

"  You'll  perish,  Mikhail  Ivanych ! "  said  the  mother, 
shaking  her  head  sadly. 

His  dark,  deep  eyes  looked  at  her  with  a  questioning, 
expectant  look.  His  powerful  body  bent  forward, 
propped  by  his  hands  resting  on  the  seat  of  the  chair, 

134 


MOTHER 

and  his  swarthy  face  seemed  pale  in  the  black  frame  of 
his  beard. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  Christ  said  about  the  seed  ? 
*  Thou  shalt  not  die,  but  rise  to  life  again  in  the  new 
ear.'  I  don't  regard  myself  as  near  death  at  all.  I  am 
shrewd.  I  follow  a  straighter  course  than  the  others. 
You  can  get  further  that  way.  Only,  you  see,  I  feel  sorry 
— I  don't  know  why."  He  fidgeted  on  his  chair,  then 
slowly  rose.  "  I'll  go  to  the  tavern  and  be  with  the  people 
a  while.  The  Little  Russian  is  not  coming.  Has  he  got- 
ten busy  already  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  The  mother  smiled.  "  No  sooner  out  of 
prison  than  they  rush  to  their  work." 

''  That's  the  way  it  should  be.    Tell  him  about  me." 

They  walked  together  slowly  into  the  kitchen,  and 
without  looking  at  each  other  exchanged  brief  remarks : 

"  I'll  tell  him,"  she  promised, 

"Well,  good-by!" 

"  Good-by !    When  do  you  quit  your  job  ?  " 

"  I  have  already." 

"  When  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  early  in  the  morning.    Good-by !  " 

He  bent  his  head  and  crawled  off  the  porch  reluc- 
tantly, it  seemed,  and  clumsily.  The  mother  stood  for  a 
moment  at  the  door  listening  to  the  heavy  departing  foot- 
steps and  to  the  doubts  that  stirred  in  her  heart.  Then 
she  noiselessly  turned  away  into  the  room,  and  drawing 
the  curtain  peered  through  the  window.  Black  darkness 
stood  behind,  motionless,  waiting,  gaping,  with  its  flat, 
abysmal  mouth. 

"  I  live  in  the  night !  "  she  thought.  "  In  the  night 
forever  1 "  She  felt  a  pity  for  the  black-bearded,  sedate 
peasant.  He  was  so  broad  and  strong — and  yet  there  was 
a  certain  helplessness  about  him,  as  about  all  the  people. 

135 


MOTHMR 

Presently  Andrey  came  in  gay  and  vivacious.  When 
the  mother  told  him  about  Rybin,  he  exclaimed : 

"Going,  is  he?  Well,  let  him  go  through  the  vil- 
lages. Let  him  ring  forth  the  word  of  truth.  Let  him 
arouse  the  people.     It's  hard  for  him  here  with  us." 

"  He  was  talking  about  the  masters.  Is  there  any- 
thing in  it  ?  "  she  inquired  circumspectly.  *'  Isn't  it  pos- 
sible that  they  want  to  deceive  you  ? " 

''It  bothers  you,  mother,  doesn't  it?"  The  Little 
Russian  laughed.  "Oh,  mother  dear — money!  If  we 
only  had  money!  We  are  still  living  on  charity.  Take, 
for  instance,  Nikolay  Ivanych.  He  earns  seventy-five 
rubles  a  month,  and  gives  us  fifty!  And  others  do  the 
same.  And  the  hungry  students  send  us  money  some- 
times, which  they  collect  penny  by  penny.  And  as  to  the 
masters,  of  course  there  are  different  kinds  among  them. 
Some  of  them  will  deceive  us,  and  some  will  leave  us ; 
but  the  best  will  stay  with  us  and  march  with  us  up  to 
our  holiday."  He  clapped  his  hands,  and  rubbing  them 
vigorously  against  each  other  continued :  "  But  not  even 
the  flight  of  an  eagle's  wings  will  enable  anyone  to  reach 
that  holiday,  so  we'll  make  a  little  one  for  the  first  of 
May.    It  will  be  jolly." 

His  words  and  his  vivacity  dispelled  the  alarm  ex- 
cited in  the  mother's  heart  by  Rybin.  The  Little  Russian 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  his  feet  sounding  on  the 
floor.  He  rubbed  his  head  with  one  hand  and  his  chest 
with  the  other,  and  spoke  looking  at  the  floor : 

"  You  know,  sometimes  you  have  a  wonderful  feeling 
living  in  your  heart.  It  seems  to  you  that  wherever  you 
go,  all  men  are  comrades ;  all  burn  with  one  and  the 
same  fire;  all  are  merry;  all  are  good.  Without  words 
they  all  understand  one  another;  and  no  one  wants  to 
hinder  or  insult  the  other.     No  one  feels  the  need  of  it. 

136 


MOTHER 

All  live  in  unison,  but  each  heart  sings  its  own  song. 
And  the  songs  flow  like  brooks  into  one  stream,  swelling 
into  a  huge  river  of  bright  joys,  rolling  free  and  wide 
down  its  course.  And  when  you  think  that  this  will  be^ 
that  it  cannot  help  being  if  we  so  wish  it — then  the  won- 
derstruck  heart  melts  with  joy.  You  feel  like  weeping — 
you  feel  so  happy." 

He  spoke  and  looked  as  if  he  were  searching  some- 
thing within  himself.  The  mother  listened  and  tried  not 
to  stir,  so  as  not  to  disturb  him  and  interrupt  his  speech. 
She  always  listened  to  him  with  more  attention  than  to 
anybody  else.  He  spoke  more  simply  than  all  the  rest, 
and  his  words  gripped  her  heart  more  powerfully. 
Pavel,  too,  was  probably  looking  to  the  future.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise,  when  one  is  following  such  a 
course  of  life?  But  when  he  looked  into  the  remote 
future  it  was  always  by  himself ;  he  never  spoke  of  what 
he  saw.  This  Little  Russian,  however,  it  seemed  to  her, 
was  always  there  with  a  part  of  his  heart;  the  legend 
of  the  future  holiday  for  all  upon  earth,  always  sounded 
in  his  speech.  This  legend  rendered  the  meaning  of  her 
son's  life,  of  his  work,  and  that  of  all  of  his  comrades, 
clear  to  the  mother. 

"  And  when  you  wake  up,"  continued  the  Little  Rus- 
sian, tossing  his  head  and  letting  his  hands  drop  along- 
side his  body,  ''  and  look  around,  you  see  it's  all  filthy 
and  cold.  All  are  tired  and  angry;  human  life  is  all 
churned  up  like  mud  on  a  busy  highway,  and  trodden 
underfoot !  " 

He  stopped  in  front  of  the  mother,  and  with  deep  sor- 
row in  his  eyes,  and  shaking  his  head,  added  in  a  low, 
sad  voice : 

"  Yes,  it  hurts,  but  you  must — you  must  distrust  man  ; 
you  must  fear  him,  and  even  hate  him !    Man  is  divided, 

137 


MOTHER 

he  is  cut  in  two  by  life.  You'd  like  only  to  love  him ;  but 
how  is  it  possible?  How  can  you  forgive  a  man  if  he 
goes  against  you  like  a  wild  beast,  does  not  recognize 
that  there  is  a  living  soul  in  you,  and  kicks  your  face — 
a  human  face !  You  must  not  forgive.  It's  not  for  your- 
self that  you  mustn't.  I'd  stand  all  the  insults  as  far  as 
I  myself  am  concerned ;  but  I  don't  want  to  show  indul- 
gence for  insults.  I  don't  want  to  let  them  learn  on  my 
back  how  to  beat  others !  " 

His  eyes  now  sparkled  with  a  cold  gleam ;  he  inclined 
his  head  doggedly,  and  continued  in  a  more  resolute 
tone: 

"  I  must  not  forgive  anything  that  is  noxious,  even 
though  it  does  not  hurt !  I'm  not  alone  in  the  world.  If 
I  allow  myself  to  be  insulted  to-day — maybe  I  can  afford 
to  laugh  at  the  insult,  maybe  it  doesn't  sting  me  at  all 
— but,  having  tested  his  strength  on  me,  the  offender  will 
proceed  to  flay  some  one  else  the  next  day !  That's  why 
one  is  compelled  to  discriminate  between  people,  to  keep 
a  firm  grip  on  one's  heart,  and  to  classify  mankind — these 
belong  to  me,  those  are  strangers." 

The  mother  thought  of  the  officer  and  Sashenka,  and 
said  with  a  sigh : 

"  What  sort  of  bread  can  you  expect  from  unbolted 
meal  ? " 

"That's  it;  that's  the  trouble!"  the  Little  Russian 
exclaimed.  "  You  must  look  with  two  kinds  of  eyes ; 
two  hearts  throb  in  your  bosom.  The  one  loves  all ;  the 
other  says :  '  Halt !    You  mustn't ! '  " 

The  figure  of  her  husband,  somber  and  ponderous, 
like  a  huge  moss-covered  stone,  now  rose  in  her  memory. 
She  made  a  mental  image  for  herself  of  the  Little  Rus- 
sian as  married  to  Natasha,  and  her  son  as  the  husband 
of  Sashenka. 

138 


MOTHER 

*'  And  why  ?  "  asked  the  Little  Russian,  warming  up. 
"It's  so  plainly  evident  that  it's  downright  ridiculous — 
simply  because  men  don't  stand  on  an  equal  footing. 
Then  let's  equalize  them,  put  them  all  in  one  row !  Let's 
divide  equally  all  that's  produced  by  the  brains  and  all 
that's  made  by  the  hands.  Let's  not  keep  one  another  in 
the  slavery  of  fear  and  envy,  in  the  thraldom  of  greed 
and  stupidity ! " 

The  mother  and  the  Little  Russian  now  began  to 
carry  on  such  conversations  with  each  other  frequently. 
He  was  again  taken  into  the  factory.  He  turned  over 
all  his  earnings  to  the  mother,  and  she  took  the  money 
from  him  with  as  little  fuss  as  from  Pavel.  Sometimes 
Audrey  would  suggest  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes : 

"  Shall  we  read  a  little,  mother,  eh  ?  '* 

She  would  invariably  refuse,  playfully  but  resolutely. 
The  twinkle  in  his  eyes  discomfited  her,  and  she  thought 
to  herself,  with  a  slight  feeling  of  offense :  "  If  you  laugh 
at  me,  then  why  do  you  ask  me  to  read  with  you  ?  " 

He  noticed  that  the  mother  began  to  ask  him  with 
increasing  frequency  for  the  meaning  of  this  or  that  book 
word.  She  always  looked  aside  when  asking  for  such 
information,  and  spoke  in  a  monotonous  tone  of  indif- 
ference. He  divined  that  she  was  studying  by  herself  in 
secret,  understood  her  bashfulness,  and  ceased  to  invite 
her  to  read  with  him.    Shortly  afterwards  she  said  to  him : 

"  My  eyes  are  getting  weak,  Andriusha.  I  guess  I 
need  glasses." 

"  All  right !  Next  Sunday  I'll  take  you  to  a  physician 
I  in  the  city,  a  friend  of  mine,  and  you  shall  have  glasses !  '* 
I  She  had  already  been  three  times  in  the  prison  to  ask 
I  for  a  meeting  with  Pavel,  and  each  time  the  general  of 
I  the  gendarmes,  a  gray  old  man  with  purple  cheeks  and 
a  huge  nose,  turned  her  gently  away. 
10  139 


MOTHER 

"  In  about  a  week,  little  mother,  not  before !  A  week 
from  now  we  shall  see,  but  at  present  it's  impossible !  " 

He  was  a  round,  well-fed  creature,  and  somehow  re- 
minded her  of  a  ripe  plum,  somewhat  spoiled  by  too  long 
keeping,  and  already  covered  with  a  downy  mold.  He 
kept  constantly  picking  his  small,  white  teeth  with  a  sharp 
yellow  toothpick.  There  was  a  little  smile  in  his  small 
greenish  eyes,  and  his  voice  had  a  friendly,  caressing 
sound. 

"  Polite ! "  said  the  mother  to  the  Little  Russian  with 
a  thoughtful  air.  "  Always  with  a  smile  on  him.  I  don't 
think  it's  right.  When  a  man  is  tending  to  affairs  like 
these,  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  grin." 

"  Yes,  yes.  They  are  so  gentle,  always  smiling.  If 
they  should  be  told :  ^  Look  here,  this  man  is  honest  and 
wise,  he  is  dangerous  to  us ;  hang  him ! '  they  would  still 
smile  and  hang  him,  and  keep  on  smiling." 

"  The  one  who  made  the  search  in  our  place  is  the 
better  of  the  two;  he  is  simpler.  You  can  see  at  once 
that  he  is  a  dog." 

"  None  of  them  are  human  beings ;  they  are  used  to 
stun  the  people  and  render  them  insensible.  They  are 
tools,  the  means  wherewith  our  kind  is  rendered  more 
convenient  to  the  state.  They  themselves  have  already 
been  so  fixed  that  they  have  become  convenient  instru- 
ments in  the  hand  that  governs  us.  They  can  do  what- 
ever they  are  told  to  do  without  thought,  without  asking 
why  it  is  necessary  to  do  it." 

At  last  Vlasova  got  permission  to  see  her  son,  and 
one  Sunday  she  was  sitting  modestly  in  a  corner  of  the 
prison  office,  a  low,  narrow,  dingy  apartment,  where  a 
few  more  people  were  sitting  and  waiting  for  permis- 
sion to  see  their  relatives  and  friends.  Evidently  it  was 
not  the  first  time  they  were  here,   for  they  knew  one 

140 


MOTHER 

another  and  in  a  low  voice  kept  up  a  lazy,  languid  con- 
versation. 

"  Have  you  heard  ?  "  said  a  stout  woman  with  a  wiz- 
ened face  and  a  traveling  bag  on  her  lap.  "  At  early 
mass  to-day  the  church  regent  again  ripped  up  the  ear 
of  one  of  the  choir  boys." 

An  elderly  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  retired  soldier 
coughed  aloud  and  remarked : 

"  These  choir  boys  are  such  loafers !  " 

A  short,  bald,  little  man  with  short  legs,  long  arms, 
and  protruding  jaw,  ran  officiously  up  and  down  the 
room.  Without  stopping  he  said  in  a  cracked,  agitated 
voice : 

"  The  cost  of  living  is  getting  higher  and  higher.  An 
inferior  quality  of  beef,  fourteen  cents;  bread  has  again 
risen  to  two  and  a  half." 

Now  and  then  prisoners  came  into  the  room — gray, 
monotonous,  with  coarse,  heavy,  leather  shoes.  They 
blinked  as  they  entered;  iron  chains  rattled  at  the  feet 
of  one  of  them.  The  quiet  and  calm  and  simplicity  all 
around  produced  a  strange,  uncouth  impression.  It 
seemed  as  if  all  had  grown  accustomed  to  their  situa- 
tion. Some  sat  there  quietly,  others  looked  on  idly,  while 
still  others  seemed  to  pay  their  regular  visits  with  a  sense 
of  weariness.  The  mother's  heart  quivered  with  impa- 
tience, and  she  looked  with  a  puzzled  air  at  everything 
around  her,  amazed  at  the  oppressive  simplicity  of  life 
in  this  corner  of  the  world. 

Next  to  Vlasova  sat  a  little  old  woman  with  a 
wrinkled  face,  but  youthful  eyes.  She  kept  her  thin  neck 
turned  to  listen  to  the  conversation,  and  looked  about  on 
all  sides  with  a  strange  expression  of  eagerness  in  her 
face. 

"  Whom  have  you  here  ?  "  Vlasova  asked  softly, 
141 


MOTHER 

"  A  son,  a  student,"  answered  the  old  woman  in  a 
loud,  brusque  voice.     "And  you?" 

"  A  son,  also.    A  workingman." 

"What's  the  name?" 

"  Vlasov." 

"  Never  heard  of  him.  How  long  has  he  been  in 
prison  ?  " 

"  Seven  weeks." 

"  And  mine  has  been  in  for  ten  months,"  said  the  old 
woman,  with  a  strange  note  of  pride  in  her  voice  which 
did  not  escape  the  notice  of  the  mother. 

A  tall  lady  dressed  in  black,  with  a  thin,  pale  face, 
said  Hngeringly: 

"  They'll  soon  put  all  the  decent  people  in  prison. 
They  can't  endure  them,  they  loathe  them !  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  said  the  little  old  bald  man,  speaking 
rapidly.  "  All  patience  is  disappearing.  Everybody  is 
excited ;  everybody  is  clamoring,  and  prices  are  mounting 
higher  and  higher.  As  a  consequence  the  value  of  men 
is  depreciating.  And  there  is  not  a  single,  conciliatory 
voice  heard,  not  one !  " 

"  Perfectly  true  !  "  said  the  retired  military  man.  "  It's 
monstrous !  What's  wanted  is  a  voice,  a  firm  voice  to 
cry,  *  Silence ! '  Yes,  that's  what  we  want — a  firm 
voice !  " 

The  conversation  became  more  general  and  animated. 
Everybody  was  in  a  hurry  to  give  his  opinion  about  life ; 
but  all  spoke  in  a  half-subdued  voice,  and  the  mother 
noticed  a  tone  of  hostility  in  all,  which  was  new  to  her. 
At  home  they  spoke  differently,  more  intelligibly,  more 
simply,  and  more  loudly. 

The  fat  warden  with  a  square  red  beard  called  out 
her  name,  looked  her  over  from  head  to  foot,  and  tell- 
ing her  to  follow  him,  walked  off  limping.    She  followed 

142 


MOTHER 

him,  and  felt  like  pushing  him  to  make  him  go  faster. 
Pavel  stood  in  a  small  room,  and  on  seeing  his  mother 
smiled  and  put  out  his  hand  to  her.  She  grasped  it, 
laughed,  blinked  swiftly,  and  at  a  loss  for  words  merely 
asked  softly: 

'*  How  are  you  ?     How  are  you  ?  " 

"  Compose  yourself,  mother."  Pavel  pressed  her 
hand. 

"  It's  all  right !    It's  all  right !  " 

"  Mother,"  said  the  warden,  fetching  a  sigh,  "  suppose 
you  move  away  from  each  other  a  bit.  Let  there  be  some 
distance  between  you."    He  yawned  aloud. 

Pavel  asked  the  mother  about  her  health  and  about 
home.  She  waited  for  some  other  questions,  sought  them 
in  her  son's  eyes,  but  could  not  find  them.  He  was  calm 
as  usual,  although  his  face  had  grown  paler,  and  his  eyes 
seemed  larger. 

"  Sasha  sends  you  her  regards,"  she  said.  Pavel's 
eyelids  quivered  and  fell.  His  face  became  softer  and 
brightened  with  a  clear,  open  smile.  A  poignant  bitter- 
ness smote  the  mother's  heart. 

"  Will  they  let  you  out  soon  ?  "  she  inquired  in  a  tone 
of  sudden  injury  and  agitation.  "  Why  have  they  put 
you  in  prison?  Those  papers  and  pamphlets  have  ap- 
peared in  the  factory  again,  anyway." 

Pavel's  eyes  flashed  with  delight. 

"  Have  they  ?    When  ?    Many  of  them  ?  " 

"  It  is  forbidden  to  talk  about  this  subject!  "  the  war- 
den lazily  announced.  **  You  may  talk  only  of  family 
matters." 

"And  isn't  this  a  family  matter?"  retorted  the 
mother. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  only  know  it's  forbidden.  You 
may  talk  about  his  wash  and  underwear  and  food,  but 

143 


MOTHER 

nothing  else !  "  Insisted  the  warden,  his  voice,  however, 
expressing  utter  Indifference. 

"  All  right,"  said  Pavel.  "  Keep  to  domestic  affairs, 
mother.    What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

She  answered  boldly,  seized  with  youthful  ardor : 

"  I  carry  all  this  to  the  factory."  She  paused  with  a 
smile  and  continued :  "  Sour  soup,  gruel,  all  Marya's 
cookery,  and  other  stuff." 

Pavel  understood.  The  muscles  of  his  face  quivered 
with  restrained  laughter.  He  ran  his  fingers  through  his 
hair  and  said  in  a  tender  tone,  such  as  she  had  never 
heard  him  use: 

"  My  own  dear  mother !  That's  good !  It's  good 
you've  found  something  to  do,  so  it  isn't  tedious  for  you. 
You  don't  feel  lonesome,  do  you,  mother?  " 

"  When  the  leaflets  appeared,  they  searched  me,  too," 
Siie  said,  not  without  a  certain  pride. 

*'  Again  on  this  subject !  "  said  the  warden  In  an  of- 
fended tone.  "  I  tell  you  it's  forbidden,  it's  not  allowed. 
They  have  deprived  him  of  liberty  so  that  he  shouldn't 
knovv^  anything  about  It;  and  here  you  are  with  your 
news.    You  ought  to  know  it's  forbidden !  " 

"  Well,  leave  it,  mother,"  said  Pavel.  "  Matvey 
Ivanovich  Is  a  good  man.  You  mustn't  do  anything  to 
provoke  him.  We  get  along  together  very  well.  It's 
by  chance  he's  here  to-day  with  us.  Usually,  It's  the 
assistant  superintendent  who  is  present  on  such  occa- 
sions. That's  why  Matvey  Ivanovich  Is  afraid  you  will 
say  something  you  oughtn't  to." 

"  Time's  up !  "  announced  the  warden  looking  at  his 
watch.    "  Take  your  leave !  " 

"  Well,  thank  you,"  said  Pavel.  **  Thank  you,  my 
darling  mother !  Don't  worry  now.  They'll  let  me  out 
soon." 

144 


MOTHER 

He  embraced  her,  pressed  her  warmly  to  his  bosom, 
and  kissed  her.  Touched  by  his  endearments,  and  happy, 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Now  separate !  "  said  the  warden,  and  as  he  walked 
off  with  the  mother  he  mumbled : 

"  Don't  cry !  They'll  let  him  out ;  they'll  let  every- 
body out.     It's  too  crowded  here." 

At  home  the  mother  told  the  Little  Russian  of  her 
conversation  with  Pavel,  and  her  face  wore  a  broad  smile. 

"  I  told  him !  Yes,  indeed !  And  cleverly,  too.  He 
understood !  "  and,  heaving  a  melancholy  sigh :  "  Oh,  yes, 
he  understood ;  otherwise  he  wouldn't  have  been  so  tender 
and  affectionate.     He  has  never  been  that  way  before." 

"Oh,  mother!"  the  Little  Russian  laughed.  "No 
matter  what  other  people  may  want,  a  mother  always 
wants  affection.  You  certainly  have  a  heart  plenty  big 
enough  for  one  man !  " 

"  But  those  people !  Just  think,  Andriusha ! "  she 
suddenly  exclaimed,  amazement  in  her  tone.  "  How  used 
they  get  to  all  this !  Their  children  are  taken  away  from 
them,  are  thrown  into  dungeons,  and,  mind  you,  it's  as 
nothing  to  them !  They  come,  sit  about,  wait,  and  talk. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  If  intelligent  people  are 
that  way,  if  they  can  so  easily  get  accustomed  to  a  thing 
like  that,  then  what's  to  be  said  about  the  common 
people  ?  " 

"  That's  natural,"  said  the  Little  Russian  with  his 
usual  smile.  "  The  law  after  all  is  not  so  harsh  toward 
them  as  toward  us.  And  they  need  the  law  more  than 
we  do.  So  that  when  the  law  hits  them  on  the  head, 
although  they  cry  out  they  do  not  cry  very  loud.  Your 
own  stick  does  not  fall  upon  you  so  heavily.  For  them 
the  laws  are  to  some  extent  a  protection,  but  for  us  they 
are  only  chains  to  keep  us  bound  so  we  can't  kick." 

145 


MOTHER 

Three  days  afterwards  in  the  evening,  when  the 
mother  sat  at  the  table  knitting  stockings  and  the  Little 
Russian  was  reading  to  her  from  a  book  about  the  revolt 
of  the  Roman  slaves,  a  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 
The  Little  Russian  went  to  open  it  and  admitted  Vye- 
sovshchikov  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm,  his  hat  pushed 
back  on  his  head,  and  mud  up  to  his  knees. 

"  I  was  passing  by,  and  seeing  a  light  in  your  house, 
I  dropped  in  to  ask  you  how  you  are.  I've  come  straight 
from  the  prison." 

He  spoke  in  a  strange  voice.  He  seized  Vlasov's 
hand  and  wrung  it  violently  as  he  added :  "  Pavel  sends 
you  his  regards."  Irresolutely  seating  himself  in  a  chair 
he  scanned  the  room  with  his  gloomy,  suspicious  look. 

The  mother  was  not  fond  of  him.  There  was  some- 
thing in  his  angular,  close-cropped  head  and  in  his  small 
eyes  that  always  scared  her;  but  now  she  was  glad  to 
see  him,  and  with  a  broad  smile  lighting  her  face  she 
said  in  a  tender,  animated  voice : 

"  How  thin  you've  become !  Say,  Andriusha,  let's 
dose  him  with  tea." 

"  I'm  putting  up  the  samovar  already ! "  the  Little 
Russian  called  from  the  kitchen. 

"  How  is  Pavel  ?  Have  they  let  anybody  else  out 
besides  yourself?" 

Nikolay  bent  his  head  and  answered : 

"  I'm  the  only  one  they've  let  go."  He  raised  his  eyes 
to  the  mother's  face  and  said  slowly,  speaking  through 
his  teeth  with  ponderous  emphasis :  ''  I  told  them : 
*  Enough !  Let  me  go  !  Else  I'll  kill  some  one  here,  and 
myself,  too ! '    So  they  let  me  go !  " 

**  Hm,  hm — ye-es,"  said  the  mother,  recoiling  from 
him  and  involuntarily  blinking  when  her  gaze  met  his 
sharp,  narrow  eyes. 

146 


MOTHER 

"  And  how  is  Fedya  Mazin  ?  "  shouted  the  Little  Rus- 
sian from  the  kitchen.    "  Writing  poetry,  is  he?  " 

*'  Yes !  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Nikolay,  shaking 
his  head.  "  They've  put  him  in  a  cage  and  he  sings. 
There's  only  one  thing  I'm  sure  about,  and  that  is  I  have 
no  desire  to  go  home." 

"  Why  should  you  want  to  go  home  ?  What's  there 
to  attract  you  ?  "  said  the  mother  pensively.  "  It's  empty, 
there's  no  fire  burning,  and  it's  chilly  all  over." 

Vyesovshchikov  sat  silent,  his  eyes  screwed  up.  Tak- 
ing a  box  of  cigarettes  from  his  pocket  he  leisurely  lit  one 
of  them,  and  looking  at  the  gray  curl  of  smoke  dissolve 
before  him  he  grinned  like  a  big,  surly  dog. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  it's  cold.  And  the  floor  is  filled  with 
frozen  cockroaches,  and  even  the  mice  are  frozen,  too, 
I  suppose.  Pelagueya  Nilovna,  will  you  let  me  sleep  here 
to-night,  please  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely  without  looking  at 
her. 

"Why,  of  course,  Nikolay!  You  needn't  even  ask 
it !  "  the  mother  quickly  replied.  She  felt  embarrassed 
and  ill  at  ease  in  Nikolay's  presence,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  speak  to  him  about.  But  he  himself  went  on  to 
talk  in  a  strangely  broken  voice. 

''  We  live  in  a  time  when  children  are  ashamed  of 
their  own  parents." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  mother,  starting. 

He  glanced  up  at  her  and  closed  his  eyes.  His  pock- 
marked face  looked  like  that  of  a  blind  man. 

"  I  say  that  children  have  to  be  ashamed  of  their  par- 
ents," he  repeated,  sighing  aloud.  "  Now,  don't  you  be 
afraid.  It's  not  meant  for  you.  Pavel  will  never  be 
ashamed  of  you.  But  I  am  ashamed  of  my  father,  and 
shall  never  enter  his  house  again.  I  have  no  father,  no 
home!    They  have  put  me  under  the  surveillance  of  the 

U7 


MOTHER 

police,  else  I'd  go  to  Siberia.  I  think  a  man  who  won't 
spare  himself  could  do  a  great  deal  in  Siberia.  I  would 
free  convicts  there  and  arrange  for  their  escape." 

The  mother  understood,  with  her  ready  feelings,  what 
agony  this  man  must  be  undergoing,  but  his  pain  awoke 
no  sympathetic  response  in  her. 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  that's  the  case,  then  it's  better  for 
you  to  go,"  she  said,  in  order  not  to  offend  him  by 
silence. 

Audrey  came  in  from  the  kitchen,  and  said,  smiling: 

"  Well,  are  you  sermonizing,  eh?  " 

The  mother  rose  and  walked  away,  saying: 

**  I'm  going  to  get  something  to  eat." 

"V^yesovshchikov  looked  at  the  Little  Russian  fixedly 
and  suddenly  declared: 

"  I  think  that  some  people  ought  to  be  killed  of? !  " 

"  Oho !  And  pray  what  for  ?  "  asked  the  Little  Rus- 
sian calmly. 

"  So  they  cease  to  be." 

"  Ahem !  And  have  you  the  right  to  make  corpses 
out  of  living  people  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

**  Where  did  you  get  it  from?" 

"  The  people  themselves  gave  it  to  me." 

The  Little  Russian  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
tall  and  spare,  swaying  on  his  legs,  with  his  hands  thrust 
in  his  pockets,  and  looked  down  on  Nikolay.  Nikolay  sat 
firmly  in  his  chair,  enveloped  in  clouds  of  smoke,  with 
red  spots  on  his  face  showing  through. 

"  The  people  gave  it  to  me !  "  he  repeated  clenching  his 
fist.  '*  If  they  kick  me  I  have  the  right  to  strike  them  and 
punch  their  eyes  out !  Don't  touch  me,  and  I  won't  touch 
you !  Let  me  live  as  I  please,  and  I'll  live  in  peace  and 
not  touch   anybody.     Maybe   I'd  prefer  to  live  in  the 

148 


MOTHER 

woods,  rd  build  myself  a  cabin  in  the  ravine  by  the 
brook  and  live  there.    At  any  rate,  I'd  live  alone." 

"  Well,  go  and  live  that  way,  if  it  pleases  you,"  said 
the  Little  Russian,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  Now  ?  "  asked  Nikolay.  He  shook  his  head  in  nega- 
tion and  replied,  striking  his  fist  on  his  knee : 

"  Now  it's  impossible !  " 

"  Who's  in  your  way  ?  '* 

"  The  people !  "  Vyesovshchikov  retorted  brusquely. 
"  I'm  hitched  to  them  even  unto  death.  They've  hedged 
my  heart  around  with  hatred  and  tied  me  to  themselves 
with  evil.  That's  a  strong  tie !  I  hate  them,  and  I  will 
not  go  away ;  no,  never !  I'll  be  in  their  way.  I'll  harass 
their  lives.  They  are  in  my  way,  I'll  be  in  theirs.  I'll 
answer  only  for  myself,  only  for  myself,  and  for  no  one 
else.     And  if  my  father  is  a  thief " 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  Little  Russian  in  a  low  voice,  moving 
up  to  Nikolay. 

"And  as  for  Isay  Gorbov,  I'll  wring  his  head  off! 
You  shall  see !  " 

"What  for?"  asked  the  Little  Russian  in  a  quiet, 
earnest  voice. 

"  He  shouldn't  be  a  spy ;  he  shouldn't  go  about  de- 
nouncing people.  It's  through  him  my  father's  gone 
to  the  dogs,  and  it's  owing  to  him  that  he  now  is  aim- 
ing to  become  a  spy,"  said  Vyesovshchikov,  looking  at 
Audrey  with  a  dark,  hostile  scowl. 

"  Oh,  that's  it !  "exclaimed  the  Little  Russian.  ''  And 
pray,  who'd  blame  you  for  that  ?    Fools  !  " 

"  Both  the  fools  and  the  wise  are  smeared  with  the 
same  oil !  "  said  Nikolay  heavily.  "  Here  are  you  a  wise 
fellow,  and  Pavel,  too.  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  I 
am  the  same  to  you  as  Fedya  Mazin  or  Samoylov,  or  as 
you  two  are  to  each  other  ?    Don't  lie !    I  won't  believe 

149 


MOTHER 

you,  anyway.  You  all  push  me  aside  to  a  place  apart,  all 
by  myself." 

"  Your  heart  is  aching,  Nikolay ! "  said  the  Little 
Russian  softly  and  tenderly  sitting  down  beside  him. 

"  Yes,  it's  aching,  and  so  is  your  heart.  But  your 
aches  seem  nobler  to  you  than  mine.  We  are  all  scoun- 
drels toward  one  another,  that's  what  I  say.  And  what 
have  you  to  say  to  that?  " 

He  fixed  his  sharp  gaze  on  Audrey,  and  waited  with 
set  teeth.  His  mottled  face  remained  immobile,  and  a 
quiver  passed  over  his  thick  lips,  as  if  scorched  by  a 
flame. 

"I  have  nothing  to  say!"  said  the  Little  Russian, 
meeting  Vyesovshchikov's  hostile  glance  with  a  bright, 
warm,  yet  melancholy  look  of  his  blue  eyes.  ''  I  know 
that  to  argue  with  a  man  at  a  time  when  all  the  wounds 
of  his  heart  are  bleeding,  is  only  to  insult  him.  I  know 
it,  brother." 

"  It's  impossible  to  argue  with  me;  I  can't,"  mumbled 
Nikolay,  lowering  his  eyes. 

"  I  think,"  continued  the  Little  Russian,  "  that  each 
of  us  has  gone  through  that,  each  of  us  has  walked 
with  bare  feet  over  broken  glass,  each  of  us  in  his  dark 
hour  has  gasped  for  breath  as  you  are  now." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  tell  me!  "  said  Vyesovshchikov 
slowly.  *'  Nothing!  My  heart  is  so — it  seems  to  me 
as  if  wolves  were  howling  there!  " 

"  And  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  to  you.  Only 
I  know  that  you'll  get  over  this,  perhaps  not  entirely, 
but  you'll  get  over  it!  "  Pie  smiled,  and  added,  tapping 
Nikolay  on  the  back:  "Why,  man,  this  is  a  children's 
disease,  something  like  measles!  We  all  suffer  from  it, 
the  strong  less,  the  weak  more.  It  comes  upon  a  man 
at  the  period  when  he  has  found  himself,  but  does  not 

150 


MOTHER 

yet  understand  life,  and  his  own  place  in  life.  And  when 
you  do  not  see  your  place,  and  are  unable  to  appraise 
your  own  value,  it  seems  that  you  are  the  only,  the 
inimitable  cucumber  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  that 
no  one  can  measure,  no  one  can  fathom  your  worth, 
and  that  all  are  eager  only  to  eat  you  up.  After  a 
while  you'll  find  out  that  the  hearts  in  other  people's 
breasts  are  no  worse  than  a  good  part  of  your  own 
heart,  and  you'll  begin  to  feel  better.  And  somewhat 
ashamed,  too!  Why  should  you  climb  up  to  the  belfry 
tower,  when  your  bell  is  so  small  that  it  can't  be  heard 
in  the  great  peal  of  the  holiday  bells?  Moreover,  you'll 
see  that  in  chorus  the  sound  of  your  bell  will  be  heard, 
too,  but  by  itself  the  old  church  bells  will  drown  it  in 
their  rumble  as  a  fly  is  drowned  in  oil.  Do  you  under- 
stand what  I  am  saying?  " 

"  Maybe  I  understand,"  Nikolay  said,  nodding  his 
head.     "  Only  I  don't  believe  it." 

The  Little  Russian  broke  into  a  laugh,  jumped  to 
his  feet,  and  began  to  run  noisily  up  and  down  the  room. 

"I  didn't  believe  it  either.     Ah,  you — wagonload!" 

"Why  a  wagonload?"  Nikolay  asked  with  a  sad 
smile,  looking  at  the  Little  Russian. 

"Because  there's  a  resemblance!" 

Suddenly  Nikolay  broke  into  a  loud  guflfaw,  his 
mouth  opening  wide. 

"What  is  it?"  the  Little  Russian  asked  in  surprise, 
stopping  in  front  of  him. 

"  It  struck  me  that  he'd  be  a  fool  who'd  want  to 
insult  you!  "  Nikolay  declared,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Why,  how  can  you  insult  me  ?  "  asked  the  Little 
Russian,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Vyesovshchikov,  grinning  good- 
naturedly  or  perhaps  condescendingly.     "  I  only  wanted 


MOTHER 

to  say  that  a  man  must  feel  mighty  ashamed  of  himself 
after  he'd  insulted  you." 

"There  now!  See  where  you  got  to!"  laughed  the 
Little  Russian. 

"Andriusha!"  the  mother  called  from  the  kitchen. 
"Come  get  the  samovar.     It's  ready!" 

Andrey  walked  out  of  the  room,  and  Vyesovshchi- 
kov,  left  alone,  looked  about,  stretched  out  his  foot 
sheathed  in  a  coarse,  heavy  boot,  looked  at  it,  bent 
down,  and  felt  the  stout  calf  of  his  legs.  Then  he  raised 
one  hand  to  his  face,  carefully  examined  the  palm,  and 
turned  it  around.  His  short-fingered  hand  was  thick,  and 
covered  with  yellowish  hair.  He  waved  it  in  the  air, 
and  arose. 

When  Andrey  brought  in  the  samovar,  Vyesovshchi- 
kov  was  standing  before  the  mirror,  and  greeted  him 
with  these  words: 

"  It's  a  long  time  since  I've  seen  my  face."  Then  he 
laughed  and  added:  "  It's  an  ugly  face  I  have!  " 

"  What's  that  to  you  ? "  asked  Andrey,  turning  a 
curious  look  upon  him. 

"  Sashenka  says  the  face  is  the  mirror  of  the  heart!  " 
Nikolay  replied,  bringing  out  the  words  slowly. 

"It's  not  true,  though!"  the  little  Russian  ejacu- 
lated. "  She  has  a  nose  like  a  mushroom,  cheek  bones 
like  a  pair  of  scissors ;  yet  her  heart  is  like  a  bright  little 
star." 

They  sat  down  to  drink  tea. 

Vyesovshchikov  took  a  big  potato,  heavily  salted  a 
slice  of  bread,  and  began  to  chew  slowly  and  deliberately, 
like  an  ox. 

"And  how  are  matters  here?"  he  asked,  with  his 
mouth  full. 

When  Andrey  cheerfully  recounted  to  him  the  growth 
152 


MOTHER 

of  the  socialist  propaganda  in  the  factory,  he  again  grew 
morose  and  remarked  dully: 

"  It  takes  too  long!  Too  long,  entirely!  It  ought 
to  go  faster! " 

The  mother  regarded  him,  and  was  seized  with  a 
feeling  of  hostility  toward  this  man. 

"  Life  is  not  a  horse;  you  can't  set  it  galloping  with 
a  whip,"  said  Audrey. 

But  Vyesovshchikov  stubbornly  shook  his  head,  and 
proceeded: 

"It's  slow!  I  haven't  the  patience.  What  am  I  to 
do?  "  He  opened  his  arms  in  a  gesture  of  helplessness, 
and  waited  for  a  response. 

"  We  all  must  learn  and  teach  others.  That's  our 
business !  "  said  Audrey,  bending  his  head. 

Vyesovshchikov  asked: 

"And  when  are  we  going  to  fight?" 

*'  There'll  be  more  than  one  butchery  of  us  up  to 
that  time,  that  I  know!"  answered  the  Little  Russian 
with  a  smile.  "  But  when  we  shall  be  called  on  to  fight, 
that  I  don't  know!  First,  you  see,  we  must  equip  the 
head,  and  then  the  hand.    That's  what  I  think." 

"  The  heart!  "  said  Nikolay  laconically. 

"  And  the  heart,  too." 

Nikolay  became  silent,  and  began  to  eat  again. 
From  the  corner  of  her  eye  the  mother  stealthily  re- 
garded his  broad,  pockmarked  face,  endeavoring  to 
find  something  in  it  to  reconcile  her  to  the  unwieldy, 
square  figure  of  Vyesovshchikov.  Her  eyebrows  flut- 
tered whenever  she  encountered  the  shooting  glance  of 
his  little  eyes.  Audrey  held  his  head  in  his  hands; 
he  became  restless — he  suddenly  laughed,  and  then 
abruptly  stopped,  and  began  to  whistle. 

It  seemed  to  the  mother  that  she  understood  his 
153 


MOTHER 

disquietude.  Nikolay  sat  at  the  table  without  saying 
anything;  and  when  the  Little  Russian  addressed  a 
question  to  him,  he  answered  briefly,  with  evident  re- 
luctance. 

The  little  room  became  too  narrow  and  stifling  for 
its  two  occupants,  and  they  glanced,  now  the  one,  now 
the  other,  at  their  guest. 

At  length  Nikolay  rose  and  said:  "  I'd  like  to  go  to 
bed.  I  sat  and  sat  in  prison — suddenly  they  let  me  go; 
I'm  off! — I'm  tired!  " 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  and  stirred  about  for  a 
while.  Then  a  sudden  stillness  settled  down.  The 
mother  listened  for  a  sound,  and  whispered  to  Audrey: 
*'  He  has  something  terrible  in  his  mind!  " 

"Yes,  he's  hard  to  understand!"  the  Little  Russian 
assented,  shaking  his  head.  "  But  you  go  to  bed, 
mother,  I  am  going  to  stay  and  read  a  while." 

She  went  to  the  corner  where  the  bed  was  hidden 
from  view  by  chintz  curtains.  Audrey,  sitting  at  the 
table,  for  a  long  while  listened  to  the  warm  murmur 
of  her  prayers  and  sighs.  Quickly  turning  the  pages 
of  the  book  Audrey  nervously  rubbed  his  lips,  twitched 
his  mustache  with  his  long  fingers,  and  scraped  his 
feet  on  the  floor.  Ticktock,  ticktock  went  the  pendu- 
lum of  the  clock;  and  the  wind  moaned  as  it  swept 
past  the  window. 

Then  the  mother's  low  voice  was  heard: 

"  Oh,  God!  How  many  people  there  are  in  the 
world,  and  each  one  wails  in  his  own  way.  Where,  then, 
are  those  who  feel  rejoiced?  " 

"Soon  there  will  be  such,  too,  soon!"  announced 
the  Little  Russian. 


154 


CHAPTER    XIV 

IFE  flowed  on  swiftly.  The  days  were  diver- 
sified and  full  of  color.  Each  one  brought 
with  it  something  new,  and  the  new  ceased 
to  alarm  the  mother.  Strangers  came  to 
the  house  in  the  evening  more  and  more 
frequently,  and  they  talked  with  Audrey  in  subdued 
voices  with  an  engrossed  air.  Late  at  night  they  went 
out  mto  the  darkness,  their  collars  up,  their  hats  thrust 
low  over  their  faces,  noiselessly,  cautiously.  All  seemed 
to  feel  a  feverish  excitement,  which  they  kept  under 
restraint,  and  had  the  air  of  wanting  to  sing  and  laugh 
if  they  only  had  the  time.  They  were  all  in  a  per- 
petual hurry.  All  of  them — the  mocking  and  the  seri- 
ous, the  frank,  jovial  youth  with  effervescing  strength, 
the  thoughtful  and  quiet — all  of  them  in  the  eyes  of 
the  mother  were  identical  in  the  persistent  faith  that 
characterized  them;  and  although  each  had  his  own 
peculiar  cast  of  countenance,  for  her  all  their  faces 
blended  into  one  thin,  composed,  resolute  face  with  a 
profound  expression  in  its  dark  eyes,  kind  yet  stern, 
like  the  look  in  Christ's  eyes  on  his  way  to  Emmaus. 

The  mother  counted  them,  and  mentally  gathered 
them  together  into  a  group  around  Pavel.  In  that 
throng  he  became  invisible  to  the  eyes  of  the  enemy. 

One  day  a  vivacious,  curly-haired  girl  appeared  from 
the  city,  bringing  some  parcel  for  Andrey;  and  on  leav- 
11  155 


MOTHER 

ing  she  said  to  Vlasova,  with  a  gleam  in  her  merry 
eyes: 

"  Good-by,  comrade!  " 

"  Good-by!  "  the  mother  answered,  restraining  a 
smile.  After  seeing  the  girl  to  the  door,  she  walked 
to  the  window  and,  smiling,  looked  out  on  the  street 
to  watch  her  comrade  as  she  trotted  away,  nimbly  rais- 
ing and  dropping  her  little  feet,  fresh  as  a  spring  flower 
and  light  as  a  butterfly. 

"Comrade!"  said  the  mother  when  her  guest  had 
disappeared  from  her  view.  "  Oh,  you  dear!  God  grant 
you  a  comrade  for  all  your  life !  " 

She  often  noticed  in  all  the  people  from  the  city 
a  certain  childishness,  for  which  she  had  the  indulgent 
smile  of  an  elderly  person;  but  at  the  same  time  she 
was  touched  and  joyously  surprised  by  their  faith,  the 
profundity  of  which  she  began  to  realize  more  and  more 
clearly.  Their  visions  of  the  triumph  of  justice  cap- 
tivated her  and  warmed  her  heart.  As  she  listened  to 
their  recital  of  future  victories,  she  involuntarily  sighed 
with  an  unknown  sorrow.  But  what  touched  her  above 
all  was  their  simplicity,  their  beautiful,  grand,  generous 
unconcern  for  themselves. 

She  had  already  come  to  understand  a  great  deal  of 
what  was  said  about  life.  She  felt  they  had  in  reality 
discovered  the  true  source  of  the  people's  misfortune, 
and  it  became  a  habit  with  her  to  agree  with  their 
thoughts.  But  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  did  not 
believe  that  they  could  remake  the  whole  of  life  ac- 
cording to  their  idea,  or  that  they  would  have  strength 
enough  to  gather  all  the  working  people  about  their 
fire.  Everyone,  she  knew,  wants  to  fill  his  stomach 
to-day,  and  no  one  wants  to  put  his  dinner  of?  even 
for  a  week,  if  he  can  eat  it  up  at  once.    Not  manv  would 

156 


MOTHER 

consent  to  travel  the  long  and  difficult  road;  and  not 
all  eyes  could  see  at  the  end  the  promised  kingdom 
where  all  men  are  brothers.  That's  why  all  these  good 
people,  despite  their  beards  and  worn  faces,  seemerl  to 
her  mere  children. 

"My  dear  ones!"  she  thought,   shaking  her  head. 

But  they  all  now  lived  a  good,  earnest,  and  sensible 
life;  they  all  spoke  of  the  common  weal;  and  in  their 
desire  to  teach  other  people  what  they  knew,  they  did 
not  spare  themselves.  She  understood  that  it  was  pos- 
sible to  love  such  a  life,  despite  its  dangers;  and  with 
a  sigh  she  looked  back  to  bygone  days  in  which  her 
past  dragged  along  flatly  and  monotonously,  a  thin, 
black  thread.  Imperceptibly  she  grew  conscious  of  her 
usefulness  in  this  new  life — a  consciousness  that  gave 
her  poise  and  assurance.  She  had  never  before  felt 
herself  necessary  to  anybody.  When  she  had  lived  with 
her  husband,  she  knew  that  if  she  died  he  would  marry 
another  woman.  It  was  all  the  same  to  him  whether 
a  dark-haired  or  a  red-haired  woman  lived  with  him  and 
prepared  his  meals.  When  Pavel  grew  up  and  began 
to  run  about  in  the  street,  she  saw  that  she  was  not 
needed  by  him.  But  now  she  felt  that  she  was  helping 
a  good  work.  It  was  new  to  her  and  pleasant.  It  set 
her  head  erect  on  her  shoulders. 

She  considered  it  her  duty  to  carry  the  books  regu- 
larly to  the  factory.  Indeed,  she  elaborated  a  number 
of  devices  for  escaping  detection.  The  spies,  grown 
accustomed  to  her  presence  on  the  factory  premises, 
ceased  to  pay  attention  to  her.  She  was  searched  sev- 
eral times,  but  always  the  day  after  the  appearance  of 
the  leaflets  in  the  factory.  When  she  had  no  literature 
about  her,  she  knew  how  to  arouse  the  suspicion  of 
the  guards  and  spies.     They  would  halt  her,  and  she 

157 


MOTHER 

would  pretend  to  feel  insulted,  and  would  remonstrate 
with  them,  and  then  walk  off  blushing,  proud  of  her 
clever  ruse.     She  began  to  enjoy  the  fun  of  the  game. 

Vyesovshchikov  was  not  taken  back  to  the  factory, 
and  went  to  work  for  a  lumberman.  The  whole  day 
long  he  drove  about  the  village  with  a  pair  of  black 
horses  pulling  planks  and  beams  after  them.  The 
mother  saw  him  almost  daily  with  the  horses  as  they 
plodded  along  the  road,  their  feet  trembling  under  the 
strain  and  dropping  heavily  upon  the  ground.  They 
were  both  old  and  bare-boned,  their  heads  shook  wearily 
and  sadly,  and  their  dull,  jaded  eyes  blinked  heavily. 
Behind  them  jerkingly  trailed  a  long  beam,  or  a  pile 
of  boards  clattering  loudly.  And  by  their  side  Nikolay 
trudged  along,  holding  the  slackened  reins  in  his  hand, 
ragged,  dirty,  with  heavy  boots,  his  hat  thrust  back, 
uncouth  as  a  stump  just  turned  up  from  the  ground. 
He,  too,  shook  his  head  and  looked  down  at  his  feet, 
refusing  to  see  anything.  His  horses  blindly  ran  into 
the  people  and  wagons  going  the  opposite  direction. 
Angry  oaths  buzzed  about  him  like  hornets,  and  sin- 
ister shouts  rent  the  air.  He  did  not  raise  his  head, 
did  not  answer  them,  but  went  on,  whistling  a  sharp, 
shrill  whistle,  mumbling  dully  to  the  horses. 

Every  time  that  Audrey's  comrades  gathered  at 
the  mother's  house  to  read  pamphlets  or  the  new  issue 
of  the  foreign  papers,  Nikolay  came  also,  sat  down  in 
a  corner,  and  listened  in  silence  for  an  hour  or  two. 
When  the  reading  was  over  the  young  people  entered 
into  long  discussions ;  but  Vyesovshchikov  took  no  part 
in  the  arguments.  He  remained  longer  than  the  rest, 
and  when  alone,  face  to  face  with  Audrey,  he  glumly 
put  to  him  the  question: 

"And  who  is  the  most  to  blame?    The  Czar?" 

158 


310  THE  R 

"The  one  to  blame  Is  he  who  first  said:  'This  is 
nine.'  That  man  has  now  been  dead  some  several 
housand  years,  and  it's  not  worth  the  while  to  bear 
lim  a  grudge,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  jesting.  His 
;yes,  however,  had  a  perturbed  expression. 

"  And  how  about  the  rich,  and  those  who  stand  up 
:or  them  ?    Are  they  right?  " 

The  Little  Russian  clapped  his  hands  to  his  head; 
:hen  pulled  his  mustache,  and  spoke  for  a  long  time 
n  simple  language  about  Hfe  and  about  the  people.  But 
Tom  his  talk  it  always  appeared  as  if  all  the  people 
vere  to  blame,  and  this  did  not  satisfy  Nikolay.  Com- 
pressing his  thick  lips  tightly,  he  shook  his  head  in 
lemur,  and  declared  that  he  could  not  believe  it  was  so, 
md  that  he  did  not  understand  it.  He  left  dissatisfied 
md  gloomy.     Once  he  said: 

"  No,  there  must  be  people  to  blame!  I'm  sure  there 
are!  I  tell  you,  we  must  plow  over  the  whole  of  life 
like  a  weedy  field,  showing  no  mercy!" 

'*  That's  what  Isay,  the  record  clerk,  once  said  about 
LIS !  "  the  mother  said.     For  a  while  the  two  were  silent. 

"Isay?" 

"  Yes,  he's  a  bad  man.  He  spies  after  everybody, 
fishes  about  everywhere  for  information.  He  has  begun 
to  frequent  this  street,  and  peers  into  our  windows." 

"Peers  into  your  windows?" 

The  mother  was  already  in  bed  and  did  not  see 
his  face.  But  she  understood  that  she  had  said  too 
much,  because  the  Little  Russian  hastened  to  interpose 
in  order  to  conciliate  Nikolay. 

"  Let  him  peer!  He  has  leisure.  That's  his  way  of 
killing  time." 

"No  hold  on!"  said  Nikolay.  "There!  He  is  to 
blame!" 

159 


MOTHER 

*'  To  blame  for  what  ? "  the  Little  Russian  asked 
brusquely.     "Because  he's  a  fool?" 

But  Vyesovshchikov  did  not  stop  to  answer  and 
walked  away. 

The  Little  Russian  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
room,  slowly  and  languidly.  He  had  taken  off  his  boots 
as  he  always  did  when  the  mother  was  in  bed  in  order 
not  to  disturb  her.  But  she  was  not  asleep,  and  when 
Nikolay  had  left  she  said  anxiously: 

"  I'm  so  afraid  of  that  man.  He's  just  like  an  over- 
heated oven.  He  does  not  warm  things,  but  scorches 
them." 

**  Yes,  yes!"  the  Little  Russian  drawled.  "He's  an 
irascible  boy.  I  wouldn't  talk  to  him  about  Isay, 
mother.  That  fellow  Isay  is  really  spying  and  getting 
paid  for  it,  too." 

"  What's  so  strange  in  that?  His  godfather  is  a 
gendarme,"  observed  the  mother. 

"  Well,  Nikolay  will  give  him  a  dressing.  What  of 
it?"  the  Little  Russian  continued  uneasily.  "See  what 
hard  feelings  the  rulers  of  our  life  have  produced  in 
the  rank  and  file?  When  such  people  as  Nikolay  come 
to  recognize  their  wrong  and  lose  their  patience,  what 
will  happen  then?  The  sky  will  be  sprinkled  with  blood, 
and  the  earth  will  froth  and  foam  with  it  like  the  suds 
of  soap  water." 

"  It's  terrible,  Andriushal"  the  mother  exclaimed  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  They  have  swallowed  flies,  and  have  to  vomit  them 
now ! "  said  Andrey  after  a  pause.  "  And  after  all, 
mother,  every  drop  of  their  blood  that  may  be  shed  will 
have  been  washed  in  seas  of  the  people's  tears." 

Suddenly  he  broke  into  a  low  laugh  and  added: 

"That's  true;  but  it's  no  comfort!" 
i6o 


MOTHER 

Once  on  a  holiday  the  mother,  on  returning  home 
from  a  store,  opened  the  door  of  the  porch,  and  re- 
mained fixed  to  the  spot,  suddenly  bathed  in  the  sun- 
shine of  joy.  From  the  room  she  heard  the  sound  of 
Pavel's  voice. 

"  There  she  is !  '*  cried  the  Little  Russian. 

The  mother  saw  Pavel  turn  about  quickly,  and  saw 
how  his  face  lighted  up  with  a  feeling  that  held  out 
the  promise  of  something  great  to  her. 

"  There  you  are — come  home !  "  she  mumbled,  stag- 
gered by  the  unexpectedness  of  the  event.    She  sat  down. 

He  bent  down  to  her  with  a  pale  face,  little  tears 
ghstened  brightly  in  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  and  his 
lips  trembled.  For  a  moment  he  was  silent.  The  mother 
looked  at  him,  and  was  silent  also. 

The  Little  Russian,  whistling  softly,  passed  by  them 
with  bent  head  and  walked  out  into  the  yard. 

"  Thank  you,  mother,"  said  Pavel  in  a  deep,  low 
voice,  pressing  her  hand  with  his  trembling  fingers. 
"'Thank  you,  my  dear,  my  own  mother!" 

Rejoiced  at  the  agitated  expression  of  her  son^s 
face  and  the  touching  sound  of  his  voice,  she  stroked 
his  hair  and  tried  to  restrain  the  palpitation  of  her  heart. 
She  murmured  softly: 

*' Christ  be  with  you!  What  have  I  done  for  you? 
It  isn't  I  who  have  made  you  what  you  are.  It's  you 
yourself " 

"Thank  you  for  helping  our  great  cause!"  he  said. 
"  When  a  man  can  call  his  mother  his  own  in  spirit 
also — that's  rare  fortune!" 

She  said  nothing,  and  greedily  swallowed  his  words. 
She  admired  her  son  as  he  stood  before  her  so  radiant 
and  so  near. 

"  I  was  silent,  mother  dear.  1  saw  that  many  things 
i6i 


MOTHER 

in  my  life  hurt  you.  I  was  sorry  for  you,  and  yet  I 
could  not  help  it.  I  was  powerless!  I  thought  you 
could  never  get  reconciled  to  us,  that  you  could  never 
adopt  our  ideas  as  yours,  but  that  you  would  suffer  in 
silence  as  you  had  suffered  all  your  life  long.  It  was 
hard." 

"  Andriusha  made  me  understand  many  things !  "  she 
declared,  in  her  desire  to  turn  her  son's  attention  to  his 
comrade. 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  about  you,"  said  Pavel,  laughing. 

"And  Yegor,  too!  He  is  a  countryman  of  mine, 
you  know.    Andriusha  wanted  to  teach  me  to  read,  also." 

"  And  you  got  offended,  and  began  to  study  by 
yourself  in  secret." 

'*  Oh,  so  he  found  me  out!"  she  exclaimed  in  em- 
barrassment. Then  troubled  by  this  abundance  of  joy 
which  filled  her  heart  she  again  suggested  to  Pavel: 

"  Shan't  we  call  him  in  ?  He  went  out  on  purpose, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  us.     He  has  no  mother." 

"Andrey!"  shouted  Pavel,  opening  the  door  to  the 
porch.     "Where  are  you?" 

"  Here.     I  want  to  chop  some  wood." 

"  Never  mind!    There's  time  enough!    Come  here!  " 

"All  right!     I'm  coming!" 

But  he  did  not  come  at  once;  and  on  entering  the 
kitchen  he  said  in  a  housekeeper-like  fashion : 

"  We  must  tell  Nikolay  to  bring  us  wood.  We  have 
very  little  wood  left.  You  see,  mother,  how  well  Pavel 
looks?  Instead  of  punishing  the  rebels,  the  government 
only  fattens  them." 

The  mother  laughed.  Her  heart  was  still  leaping 
with  joy.  She  was  fairly  intoxicated  with  happiness. 
But  a  certain,  cautious,  chary  feeling  already  called  forth 
in  her  the  wish  to  see  her  son  calm  as  he  always  was. 

162 


MOTHER 

She  wanted  this  first  joy  in  her  life  to  remain  fixed  in 
her  heart  forever  as  Hve  and  strong  as  at  first.  In  order 
to  guard  against  the  diminution  of  her  happiness,  she 
hastened  to  hide  it,  as  a  fowler  secrets  some  rare  bird 
that  has  happened  to  fall  into  his  hands. 

"  Let's  have  dinner!  Pasha,  haven't  you  had  any- 
thing to  eat  yet?"  she  asked  with  anxious  haste. 

"  No.  I  learned  yesterday  from  the  warden  that  I 
was  to  be  released,  and  I  couldn't  eat  or  drink  any- 
thing to-day." 

"  The  first  person  I  met  here  was  Sizov,"  Pavel 
communicated  to  Audrey.  "  He  caught  sight  of  me  and 
crossed  the  street  to  greet  me.  I  told  him  that  he 
ought  to  be  more  careful  now,  as  I  was  a  dangerous 
man  under  the  surveillance  of  the  police.  But  he  said: 
*  Never  mind!'  and  you  ought  to  have  heard  him  in- 
quire about  his  nephew!  'Did  Fedor  conduct  himself 
properly  in  prison?'  I  wanted  to  know  what  is  meant 
by  proper  behavior  in  prison,  and  he  declared:  *  Well, 
did  he  blab  anything  he  shouldn't  have  against  his 
comrades?'  And  when  I  told  him  that  Fedya  was  an 
honest  and  wise  young  man,  he  stroked  his  beard  and 
declared  proudly :  '  We,  the  Sizovs,  have  no  trash  in 
our  family.'  " 

"  He's  a  brainy  old  man!  "  said  the  Little  Russian, 
nodding  his  head.  *'  We  often  have  talks  with  him. 
He's  a  fine  peasant.    Will  they  let  Fedya  out  soon?" 

"  Yes,  one  of  these  days,  I  suppose.  They'll  let  out 
all,  I  think.  They  have  no  evidence  except  Isay's,  and 
what  can  he  say  ?  " 

The  mother  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and 
looked  at  her  son.  Audrey  stood  at  the  window  with 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  listening  to  Pavel's 
narrative.    Pavel  also  paced  up  and  down  the  room.    His 

163 


MOTHER 

beard  had  grown,  and  small  ringlets  of  thin,  dark  hair 
curled  in  a  dense  growth  around  his  cheeks,  softening 
the  swarthy  color  of  his  face.  His  dark  eyes  had  their 
stern  expression. 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  mother,  serving  a  hot  dish. 

At  dinner  Audrey  told  Pavel  about  Rybin.  When 
he  had  concluded  Pavel  exclaimed  regretfully : 

"  If  I  had  been  home,  I  would  not  have  let  him 
go  that  way.  What  did  he  take  along  with  him?  A 
feeling  of  discontent  and  a  muddle  in  his  head!" 

"  Well,"  said  Audrey,  laughing,  ''  when  a  man's 
grown  to  the  age  of  forty  and  has  fought  so  long  with 
the  bears  in  his  heart,  it's  hard  to  make  him  over." 

Paval  looked  at  him  sternly  and  asked: 

"  Do  you  think  it's  impossible  for  enlightenment  to 
destroy  all  the  rubbish  that's  been  crammed  into  a  man's 
brains?" 

"Don't  fly  up  into  the  air  at  once,  Pavel!  Your 
flight  will  knock  you  up  against  the  belfry  tower  and 
break  your  wings,"  said  the  Little  Russian  in  admo- 
nition. 

And  they  started  one  of  those  discussions  in  which 
words  were  used  that  were  unintelligible  to  the  mother. 
The  dinner  was  already  at  an  end,  but  they  still  con- 
tinued a  vehement  debate,  flinging  at  each  other  veritable 
rattling  hailstones  of  big  words.  Sometimes  their  lan- 
guage was  simpler: 

"  We  must  keep  straight  on  our  path,  turning  neither 
to  the  right  nor  to  the  left!"  Pavel  asserted  firmly. 

"  And  run  headlong  into  millions  of  people  who  will 
regard  us  as  their  enemies! " 

"You  can't  avoid  that!" 

"  And  what,  my  dear  sir,  becomes  of  your  enlighten- 
ment? " 

164 


MOTHER 

The  mother  Hstened  to  the  dispute,  and  understood 
that  Pavel  did  not  care  for  the  peasants,  but  that  the 
Little  Russian  stood  up  for  them,  and  tried  to  show 
that  the  peasants,  too,  must  be  taught  to  comprehend 
the  good.  She  understood  Andrey  better,  and  he  seemed 
to  her  to  be  in  the  right;  but  every  time  he  spoke  she 
waited  with  strained  ears  and  bated  breath  for  her  son's 
answer  to  find  out  whether  the  Little  Russian  had 
offended  Pavel.  But  although  they  shouted  at  the  top 
of  their  voices,  they  gave  each  other  no  offense. 

Occasionally  the  mother  asked: 

"Is  it  so,  Pavel?" 

And  he  answered  with  a  smile: 

"  Yes,  it's  so." 

*'  Say,  my  dear  sir,"  the  Little  Russian  said  with  a 
good-natured  sneer,  "  you  have  eaten  well,  but  you  have 
chewed  your  food  up  badly,  and  a  piece  has  remained 
sticking  in  your  throat.     You  had  better  gargle." 

"  Don't  go  fooling  now!  "  said  Pavel. 

**  I  am  as  solemn  as  a  funeral." 

The  mother  laughed  quietly  and  shook  her  head. 


CHAPTER    XV 

PRING  was  rapidly  drawing  near;  the 
snow  melted  and  laid  bare  the  mud  and 
the  soot  of  the  factory  chimneys.  Mud, 
mud!  Wherever  the  villagers  looked  — 
mud!  Every  day  more  mud!  The  entire 
village  seemed  unwashed  and  dressed  in  rags  and  tatters. 
During  the  day  the  water  dripped  monotonously  from 
the  roofs,  and  damp,  weary  exhalations  emanated  from 
the  gray  walls  of  the  houses.  Toward  night  whitish 
icicles  glistened  everywhere  in  dim  outline.  The  sun 
appeared  in  the  heavens  more  frequently,  and  the  brooks 
began  to  murmur  hesitatingly  on  their  way  to  the  marsh. 
At  noon  the  throbbing  song  of  spring  hopes  hung  trem- 
blingly and  caressingly  over  the  village. 

They  were  preparing  to  celebrate  the  first  of  May. 
Leaflets  appeared  in  the  factory  explaining  the  signifi- 
cance  of  this   holiday,   and   even  the   young  men  not 
affected  by  the  propaganda  said,  as  they  read  them: 
"  Yes,  we  must  arrange  a  hoHday!  " 
Vyesovshchikov  exclaimed  with  a  sullen  grin: 
*'  It's  time !    Time  we  stopped  playing  hide  and  seek !  " 
Fedya  Mazin  was  in  high  spirits.    He  had  grown  very 
thin.    With  his  nervous,  jerky  gestures,  and  the  trepida- 
tion in  his  speech,  he  was  like  a  caged  lark.     He  was 
always  with  Yakob  Somov,  taciturn  and  serious  beyond 
his  years. 

Samoylov,   who   had   grown    still   redder   in   prison, 
i66 


MOTHER 

Vasily  Gusev,  curly-haired  Dragunov,  and  a  number  of 
others  argued  that  it  was  necessary  to  come  out  armed, 
but  Pavel  and  the  Little  Russian,  Somov,  and  others 
said  it  was  not. 

Yegor  always  came  tired,  perspiring,  short  of  breath, 
but  always  joking. 

'*  The  work  of  changing  the  present  order  of  things, 
comrades,  is  a  great  work,  but  in  order  to  advance  it 
more  rapidly,  I  must  buy  myself  a  pair  of  boots!"  he 
said,  pointing  to  his  wet,  torn  shoes.  "  My  overshoes, 
too,  are  torn  beyond  the  hope  of  redemption,  and  I  get 
my  feet  wet  every  day.  I  have  no  intention  of  migrat- 
ing from  the  earth  even  to  the  nearest  planet  before 
we  have  publicly  and  openly  renounced  the  old  order 
of  things;  and  I  am  therefore  absolutely  opposed  to 
comrade  Samoylov's  motion  for  an  armed  demonstra- 
tion. I  amend  the  motion  to  read  that  I  be  armed 
with  a  pair  of  strong  boots,  inasmuch  as  I  am  pro- 
foundly convinced  that  this  will  be  of  greater  service 
for  the  ultimate  triumph  of  socialism  than  even  a  grand 
exhibition  of  fisticuffs  and  black  eyes !  " 

In  the  same  playfully  pretentious  language,  he  told 
the  workingmen  the  story  of  how  in  various  foreign 
countries  the  people  strove  to  lighten  the  burden  of 
their  lives.  The  mother  loved  to  listen  to  his  tales, 
and  carried  away  a  strange  impression  from  them.  She 
conceived  the  shrewdest  enemies  of  the  people,  those 
who  deceived  them  most  frequently  and  most  cruelly, 
as  little,  big-bellied,  red-faced  creatures,  unprincipled 
and  greedy,  cunning  and  heartless.  When  life  was  hard 
for  them  under  the  domination  of  the  czars,  they  would 
incite  the  common  people  against  the  ruler;  and  when 
the  people  arose  and  wrested  the  power  from  him,  these 
little  creatures  got  it  into  their  own  hands  by  deceit, 

167 


MOTHER 

and  drove  the  people  off  to  their  holes;  and  if  the 
people  remonstrated,  they  killed  them  by  the  hundreds 
and  thousands. 

Once  she  summoned  up  courage  and  told  him  of 
the  picture  she  had  formed  of  life  from  his  tales,  and 
asked  him: 

"Is  it  so,  Yegor  Ivanovich?" 

He  burst  into  a  guffaw,  turned  up  his  eyes,  gasped 
for  breath,  and  rubbed  his  chest. 

"Exactly,  granny!  You  caught  the  idea  to  a  dot! 
Yes,  yes!  You've  placed  some  ornaments  on  the  canvas 
of  history,  you've  added  some  flourishes,  but  that  does 
not  interfere  with  the  correctness  of  the  whole.  It's 
these  very  little,  pot-bellied  creatures  who  are  the  chief 
sinners  and  deceivers  and  the  most  poisonous  insects 
that  harass  the  human  race.  The  Frenchmen  call  them 
*  bourgeois.'  Remember  that  word,  dear  granny — bour- 
geois] Brr!  How  they  chew  us  and  grind  us  and  suck 
the  life  out  of  us ! " 

"The  rich,  you  mean?" 

"  Yes,  the  rich.  And  that's  their  misfortune.  You 
see,  if  you  keep  adding  copper  bit  by  bit  to  a  child's 
food,  you  prevent  the  growth  of  its  bones,  and  he'll  be 
a  dwarf;  and  if  from  his  youth  up  you  poison  a  man  with 
gold,  you  deaden  his  soul." 

Once,  speaking  about  Yegor,  Pavel  said: 

"  Do  you  know,  Andrey,  the  people  whose  hearts  are 
always  aching  are  the  ones  who  joke  most?" 

The  Little  Russian  was  silent  a  while,  and  then  an- 
swered, blinking  his  eyes: 

"  No,  that's  not  true.  If  it  were,  then  the  whole  of 
Russia  would  split  its  sides  with  laughter." 

Natasha  made  her  appearance  again.  She,  too,  had 
been  in  prison,  in  another  city,  but  she  had  not  changed. 

i68 


MOTHER 

The  mother  noticed  that  in  her  presence  the  Little  Rus- 
sian grew  more  cheerful,  was  full  of  jokes,  poked  fun  at 
everybody,  and  kept  her  laughing  merrily.  But  after  she 
had  left  he  would  whistle  his  endless  songs  sadly,  and 
pace  up  and  down  the  room  for  a  long  time,  wearily 
dragging  his  feet  along  the  floor. 

Sashenka  came  running  in  frequently,  always  gloomy, 
always  in  haste,  and  for  some  reason  more  and  more 
angular  and  stiff.  Once  when  Pavel  accompanied  her  out 
onto  the  porch,  the  mother  overheard  their  abrupt  con- 
versation. 

"  Will  you  carry  the  banner?  "  the  girl  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  it  settled?  " 

''  Yes,  it's  my  right." 

"To  prison  again?"  Pavel  was  silent.  "Is  it  not 
possible  for  you — "    She  stopped. 

"What?" 

"  To  give  it  up  to  somebody  else  ?  " 

"No!"  he  said  aloud. 

"Think  of  it!  You're  a  man  of  such  influence;  you 
are  so  much  liked — you  and  Nakhodka  are  the  two  fore- 
most revolutionary  workers  here.  Think  how  much  you 
could  accomplish  for  the  cause  of  freedom!  You  know 
that  for  this  they'll  send  you  off  far,  far,  and  for  a  long 
time!" 

Nilovna  thought  she  heard  in  the  girl's  voice  the 
familiar  sound  of  fear  and  anguish,  and  her  words 
fell  upon  the  mother's  heart  like  heavy,  icy  drops  of 
water. 

"  No,  I  have  made  up  my  mind.  Nothing  can  make 
me  give  it  up !  " 

"  Not  even  if  I  beg  you — if  I " 

169 


MOTHER 

Pavel  suddenly  began  to  speak  rapidly  with  a  pe- 
culiar sternness. 

''  You  ought  not  to  speak  that  way.  Why  you?  You 
ought  not!  " 

"  I  am  a  human  being!  "  she  said  in  an  undertone. 

"A  good  human  being,  too!  "  he  said  also  in  an 
undertone,  and  in  a  peculiar  voice,  as  if  unable  to  catch 
his  breath.  "You  are  a  dear  human  being  to  me,  yes! 
And  that's  why — why  you  mustn't  talk  that  way!" 

"  Good-by!  "  said  the  girl. 

The  mother  heard  the  sound  of  her  departing  foot- 
steps, and  knew  that  she  was  walking  away  very  fast, 
nay,  almost  running.     Pavel  followed  her  into  the  yard. 

A  heavy  oppressive  fear  fell  like  a  load  on  the  moth- 
er's breast.  She  did  not  understand  what  they  had  been 
talking  about,  but  she  felt  that  a  new  misfortune  was 
in  store  for  her,  a  great  and  sad  misfortune.  And  her 
thoughts  halted  at  the  question,  "  What  does  he  want 
to  do  ?  "  Her  thoughts  halted,  and  were  driven  into  her 
brain  like  a  nail.  She  stood  in  the  kitchen  by  the  oven, 
and  looked  through  the  window  into  the  profound,  starry 
heaven. 

Pavel  walked  in  from  the  yard  with  Audrey,  and  the 
Little  Russian  said,  shaking  his  head: 

"Oh,  I  say,  Is  ay!    What's  to  be  done  with  him?" 

"  We  must  advise  him  to  give  up  his  project,"  said 
Pavel  glumly. 

"  Then  he'll  hand  over  those  who  speak  to  him  to  the 
authorities,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  flinging  his  hat 
away  in  a  corner. 

"  Pasha,  what  do  you  want  to  do?  "  asked  the  mother, 
drooping  her  head. 

"When?    Now?" 

"  The  first  of  May— thl  first  of  May." 
170 


MOTHER 

"  Aha!  "  exclaimed  Pavel,  lowering  his  voice.  "  You 
heard!  I  am  going  to  carry  our  banner.  I  will  march 
with  it  at  the  head  of  the  procession.  I  suppose  they'll 
put  me  in  prison  for  it  again." 

The  mother's  eyes  began  to  burn.  An  unpleasant, 
dry  feeling  came  into  her  mouth.  Pavel  took  her  hand 
and  stroked  it. 

*' I  must  do  it!  Please  understand  me!  It  is  my 
happiness!  " 

"  Pm  not  saying  anything,"  she  answered,  slowly 
raising  her  head;  but  when  her  eyes  met  the  resolute 
gleam  in  his,  she  again  lowered  it.  He  released  her  hand, 
and  with  a  sigh  said  reproachfully : 

"  You  oughtn't  to  be  grieved.  You  ought  to  feel 
rejoiced.  When  are  we  going  to  have  mothers  who  will 
rejoice  in  sending  their  children  even  to  death?" 

"Hopp!  Hopp!"  mumbled  the  Little  Russian. 
*'  How  you  gallop  away!  " 

"Why;  do  I  say  anything  to  you?"  the  mother  re- 
peated. "  I  don't  interfere  with  you.  And  if  Pm  sorry 
for  you — well,  that's  a  mother's  way." 

Pavel  drew  away  from  her,  and  she  heard  his  sharp, 
harsh  words: 

"  There  is  a  love  that  interferes  with  a  man's  very 
life." 

She  began  to  tremble,  and  fearing  that  he  might  deal 
another  blow  at  her  heart  by  saying  something  stern, 
she  rejoined  quickly: 

"  Don't,  Pasha!  Why  should  you?  I  understand. 
You  can't  act  otherwise,  you  must  do  it  for  your  com- 
rades." 

"  No!  "  he  replied.  "  I  am  doing  it  for  myself.  For 
their  sake  I  can  go  without  carrying  the  banner,  but 
I'm  going  to  do  it !  " 

12  171 


MOTHER 

Andrey  stationed  himself  in  the  doorway.  It  was 
too  low  for  him,  and  he  had  to  bend  his  knees  oddly. 
He  stood  there  as  in  a  frame,  one  shoulder  leaning 
against  the  jamb,  his  head  and  other  shoulder  thrust 
forward. 

"  I  wish  you  would  stop  palavering,  my  dear  sir," 
he  said  with  a  frown,  fixing  his  protuberant  eyes  on 
Pavel's  face.  He  looked  like  a  lizard  in  the  crevice  of 
a  stone  wall. 

The  mother  was  overcome  with  a  desire  to  weep,  but 
she  did  not  want  her  son  to  see  her  tears,  and  suddenly 
mumbled:  "Oh,  dear! — I  forgot — "  and  walked  out  to 
the  porch.  There,  her  head  in  a  corner,  she  wept  noise- 
lessly; and  her  copious  tears  weakened  her,  as  though 
blood  oozed  from  her  heart  along  with  them. 

Through  the  door  standing  ajar  the  hollow  sound 
of  disputing  voices  reached  her  ear. 

"  Well,  do  you  admire  yourself  for  having  tortured 
her?" 

"You  have  no  right  to  speak  like  that!"  shouted 
Pavel. 

"  A  fine  comrade  Fd  be  to  you  if  I  kept  quiet 
when  I  see  you  making  a  fool  of  yourself.  Why  did 
you  say  all  that  to  your  mother?  " 

"  A  man  must  always  speak  firmly  and  without 
equivocation.  He  must  be  clear  and  definite  when  he 
says  *  Yes.'  He  must  be  clear  and  definite  when  he  says 
'  No.' " 

"  To  her — to  her  must  you  speak  that  way?  " 

"To  everybody!  I  want  no  love,  I  want  no  friend- 
ship which  gets  between  my  feet  and  holds  me  back." 

"Bravo!  You're  a  hero!  Go  say  all  this  to  Sa- 
shenka.    You  should  have  said  that  to  her." 

"I  have!" 

172 


MOTHBR 

"  You  have !  The  way  you  spoke  to  your  mother? 
You  have  not!  To  her  you  spoke  softly;  you  spoke 
gently  and  tenderly  to  her.  I  did  not  hear  you,  but 
I  know  it!  But  you  trot  out  your  heroism  before  your 
mother.    Of  course!    Your  heroism  is  not  worth  a  cent." 

Vlasova  began  to  wipe  the  tears  from  her  face  in 
haste.  For  fear  a  serious  quarrel  should  break  out 
between  the  Little  Russian  and  Pavel,  she  quickly  opened 
the  door  and  entered  the  kitchen,  shivering,  terrified,  and 
distressed. 

''  Ugh !    How  cold !    And  it's  spring,  too !  " 

She  aimlessly  removed  various  things  in  the  kitchen 
from  one  place  to  another,  and  in  order  to  drown  the 
subdued  voices  in  the  room,  she  continued  in  a  louder 
voice : 

"  Everything's  changed.  People  have  grown  hotter 
and  the  weather  colder.  At  this  time  of  the  year  it 
used  to  get  warm;  the  sky  would  clear,  and  the  sun 
would  be  out." 

Silence  ensued  in  the  room.  The  mother  stood  wait- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  Did  you  hear?  "  came  the  low  sound  of  the  Little 
Russian's  voice.  "  You  must  understand  it,  the  devil 
take  it!    That's  richer  than  yours." 

"Will  you  have  some  tea?"  the  mother  called  with 
a  trembling  voice,  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer 
she  exclaimed,  in  order  to  excuse  the  tremor  in  her 
voice : 

"How  cold  I  am!" 

Pavel  came  up  slowly  to  her,  looking  at  her  from 
the  corners  of  his  eyes,  a  guilty  smile  quivering  on  his 
lips. 

"  Forgive  me,  mother!  "  he  said  softly.  "  I  am  still 
a  boy,  a  fool." 

173 


MOTHER 

"You  mustn't  hurt  me!"  she  cried  in  a  sorrowful 
voice,  pressing  his  head  to  her  bosom.  "Say  nothing! 
God  be  with  you.  Your  Hfe  is  your  own!  But  don't 
wound  my  heart.  How  can  a  mother  help  sorrowing  for 
her  son?  Impossible!  I  am  sorry  for  all  of  you.  You 
are  all  dear  to  me  as  my  own  flesh  and  blood;  you  are 
all  such  good  people!  And  who  will  be  sorry  for  you 
if  I  am  not  ?  You  go  and  others  follow  you.  They 
have  all  left  everything  behind  them,  Pasha,  and  gone 
into  this  thing.     It's  just  like  a  sacred  procession." 

A  great  ardent  thought  burned  in  her  bosom,  ani- 
mating her  heart  with  an  exalted  feeling  of  sad,  tor- 
menting joy;  but  she  could  find  no  words,  and  she 
waved  her  hands  w^ith  the  pang  of  muteness.  She  looked 
into  her  son's  face  with  eyes  in  which  a  bright,  sharp 
pain  had  lit  its  fires. 

"Very  well,  mother!  Forgive  me.  I  see  all  now!" 
he  muttered,  lowering  his  head.  Glancing  at  her  with 
a  light  smile,  he  added,  embarrassed  but  happy :  "  I  will 
not  forget  this,  mother,  upon  my  word." 

She  pushed  him  from  her,  and  looking  into  the 
room  she  said  to  Audrey  in  a  good-natured  tone  of 
entreaty : 

"  Andriusha,  please  don't  you  shout  at  him  so !  Of 
course,  you  are  older  than  he,  and  so  you " 

The  Little  Russian  was  standing  with  his  back  toward 
her.  He  sang  out  drolly  without  turning  around  to  face 
her: 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!  I'll  bawl  at  him,  be  sure!  And  I'll 
beat  him  some  day,  too." 

She  walked  up  slowly  to  him,  with  outstretched  hand, 
and  said: 

"  My  dear,  dear  man!  " 

The   Little    Russian   turned   around,   bent  his   head 
174 


MOTHER 

like  an  ox,  and  folding  his  hands  behind  his  back  walked 
past  her  into  the  kitchen.  Thence  his  voice  issued  in 
a  tone  of  mock  sullenness: 

"  You  had  better  go  away,  Pavel,  so  I  shan't  bite 
your  head  off!  I  am  only  joking,  mother;  don't  be- 
lieve it!  I  want  to  prepare  the  samovar.  What  coals 
these  are!    Wet,  the  devil  take  them!" 

He  became  silent,  and  when  the  mother  walked  into 
the  kitchen  he  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  blowing  the 
coals  in  the  samovar.  Without  looking  at  her  the  Little 
Russian  began  again: 

"  Yes,  mother,  don't  be  afraid.  I  won't  touch  him. 
You  know,  I'm  a  good-natured  chap,  soft  as  a  stewed 
turnip.  And  then — you  hero  out  there,  don't  listen — 
I  love  him!  But  I  don't  like  the  waistcoat  he  wears. 
You  see,  he  has  put  on  a  new  waistcoat,  and  he  likes 
it  very  much,  so  he  goes  strutting  about,  and  pushes 
everybody,  crying:  *  See,  see  what  a  waistcoat  I  have 
on ! '  It's  true,  it's  a  fine  waistcoat.  But  what's  the 
use  of  pushing  people?  It's  hot  enough  for  us  with- 
out it." 

Pavel  smiled  and  asked: 

**  How  long  do  you  mean  to  keep  up  your  jabbering? 
You  gave  me  one  thrashing  with  your  tongue.  That's 
enough! " 

Sitting  on  the  floor,  the  Little  Russian  spread  his 
legs  around  the  samovar,  and  regarded  Pavel.  The 
mother  stood  at  the  door,  and  fixed  a  sad,  affectionate 
gaze  at  Andrey's  long,  bent  neck  and  the  round  back 
of  his  head.  He  threw  his  body  back,  supporting  him- 
self with  his  hands  on  the  floor,  looked  at  the  mother 
and  at  the  son  with  his  slightly  reddened  and  blink- 
ing eyes,  and  said  in  a  low,  hearty  voice: 

"  You  are  good  people,  yes,  you  are!  " 
175 


MOTir£R 

Pavel  bent  down  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Don't  pull  my  hand,"  said  the  Little  Russian 
gruffly.     ''  You'll  let  go  and  I'll  fall.     Go  away!  '^ 

**  Why  are  you  so  shy?"  the  mother  said  pensively. 
"You'd  better  embrace  and  kiss.     Press  hard,  hard!" 

*'  Do  you  want  to?  "  asked  Pavel  softly. 

''  We — ell,  why  not?  "  answered  the  Little  Russian, 
rising. 

Pavel  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  grasping  each  other 
firmly,  they  sank  for  a  moment  into  each  other's  em- 
brace— two  bodies  and  one  soul  passionately  and  evenly 
burning  with  a  profound  feeling  of  friendship. 

Tears  ran  down  the  mother's  face,  but  this  time  they 
were  easy  tears.  Drying  them  she  said  in  embarrass- 
ment: 

"  A  woman  likes  to  cry.  She  cries  when  she  is  in 
sorrow;  she  cries  when  she  is  in  joy!  " 

The  Little  Russian  pushed  Pavel  away,  and  with  a 
light  movement,  also  wiping  his  eyes  with  his  fingers, 
he  said: 

"  Enough!  When  the  calves  have  had  their  frolic, 
they  must  go  to  the  shambles.  What  beastly  coal  this 
:s!  I  blew  and  blew  on  it,  and  got  some  of  the  dust 
in  my  eyes." 

Pavel  sat  at  the  window  with  bent  head,  and  said 
mildly: 

**  You  needn't  be  ashamed  of  such  tears." 

The  mother  walked  up  to  him,  and  sat  down  be- 
side him.  Her  heart  was  wrapped  in  a  soft,  warm, 
daring  feeling.     She  felt  sad,  but  pleasant  and  at  ease. 

**  It's  all  the  same!  "  she  thought,  stroking  her  son's 
hand.    "  It  can't  be  helped;  it  must  be  so!  " 

She  recalled  other  such  commonplace  words,  to  which 
she  had  been  accustomed  for  a  long  time;  but  they  did 

176 


MOTHER 

not  give  adequate  expression  to  all  she  had  lived  through 
that  moment. 

"I'll  put  the  dishes  on  the  table;  you  stay  where 
you  are,  mother,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  rising  from 
the  floor,  and  going  into  the  room.  "  Rest  a  while. 
Your  heart  has  been  worn  out  with  such  blows ! " 

And  from  the  room  his  singing  voice,  raised  to  a 
higher  pitch,  was  heard, 

"  It's  not  a  nice  thing  to  boast  of,  yet  I  must  say 
we  tasted  the  right  life  just  now,  real,  human,  loving 
life.     It  does  us  good." 

"  Yes,"  said  Pavel,  looking  at  the  mother. 

"  It's  all  different  now,"  she  returned.  "  The  sor- 
row is  different,  and  the  joy  is  different.  I  do  not 
know  anything,  of  course!  I  do  not  understand  what  it 
is  I  live  by — and  I  can't  express  my  feelings  in  words !  " 

"  This  is  the  way  it  ought  to  be !  "  said  the  Little  Rus- 
sian, returning.  ''  Because,  mark  you,  mother  dear,  a 
new  heart  is  coming  into  existence,  a  new  heart  is  grow- 
ing up  in  life.  All  hearts  are  smitten  in  the  conflict  of 
interests,  all  are  consumed  with  a  blind  greed,  eaten  up 
with  envy,  stricken,  wounded,  and  dripping  with  filth, 
falsehood,  and  cowardice.  All  people  are  sick ;  they  are 
afraid  to  live ;  they  wander  about  as  in  a  mist.  Everyone 
feels  only  his  own  toothache.  But  lo,  and  behold !  Here 
is  a  Man  coming  and  illuminating  life  with  the  light  of 
reason,  and  he  shouts :  '  Oh,  ho !  you  straying  roaches ! 
It's  time,  high  time,  for  you  to  understand  that  all  your 
interests  are  one,  that  everyone  has  the  need  to  live, 
everyone  has  the  desire  to  grow ! '  The  Man  who  shouts 
this  is  alone,  and  therefore  he  cries  aloud ;  he  needs  com- 
rades, he  feels  dreary  in  his  loneliness,  dreary  and  cold. 
And  at  his  call  the  stanch  hearts  unite  into  one  great, 
strong  heart,  deep  and  sensitive  as  a  silver  bell  not  yet 

^77 


MOTHER 

cast.  And  hark !  This  bell  rings  forth  the  message : 
*  Men  of  all  countries,  unite  into  one  family !  Love  is 
the  mother  of  life,  not  hate ! '  My  brothers !  I  hear  this 
message  sounding  through  the  world !  " 

"  And  I  do,  too !  "  cried  Pavel.       h 

The  mother  compressed  her  lips  to  keep  them  from 
trembling,  and  shut  her  eyes  tight  so  as  not  to  cry. 

**  When  I  lie  in  bed  at  night  or  am  out  walking  alone 
— everywhere  I  hear  this  sound,  and  my  heart  rejoices. 
And  the  earth,  too — I  know  it — weary  of  injustice  and 
sorrow,  rings  out  like  a  bell,  responding  to  the  call,  and 
trembles  benignly,  greeting  the  new  sun  arising  in  the 
breast  of  Man." 

Pavel  rose,  lifted  his  hand,  and  was  about  to  say 
something,  but  the  mother  took  his  other  hand,  and  pull- 
ing him  down  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  Don't  disturb  him !  " 

"  Do  you  know  ?  "  said  the  Little  Russian,  standing  in 
the  doorway,  his  eyes  aglow  with  a  bright  flame,  "  there 
is  still  much  suffering  in  store  for  the  people,  much  of 
their  blood  will  yet  flow,  squeezed  out  by  the  hands  of 
greed;  but  all  that — all  my  suffering,  all  my  blood,  is  a 
small  price  for  that  which  is  already  stirring  in  my  breast, 
in  my  mind,  in  the  marrow  of  my  bones !  I  am  already 
rich,  as  a  star  is  rich  in  golden  rays.  And  I  will  bear  all, 
I  will  suffer  all,  because  there  is  within  me  a  joy  which 
no  one,  which  nothing  can  ever  stifle !  In  this  joy  there 
is  a  world  of  strength !  " 

They  drank  tea  and  sat  around  the  table  until  mid- 
night, and  conversed  heart  to  heart  and  harmoniously 
about  life,  about  people,  and  about  the  future. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

HENEVER  a  thought  was  clear  to  the 
mother,  she  would  find  confirmation  of  the 
idea  by  drawing  upon  some  of  her  rude, 
coarse  experiences.  She  now  felt  as  on  that 
day  when  her  father  said  to  her  roughly : 
"  What  are  you  making  a  wry  face  about  ?  A  fool 
has  been  found  who  wants  to  marry  you.  Marry  him  I 
All  girls  must  get  husbands;  all  women  must  bear  chil- 
dren, and  all  children  become  a  burden  to  their  parents  I  " 
After  these  words  she  saw  before  her  an  unavoidable 
path  running  for  some  inexplicable  reason  through  a 
dark,  dreary  waste.  Thus  it  was  at  the  present  moment. 
In  anticipation  of  a  new  approaching  misfortune,  she 
uttered  speechless  words,  addressing  some  imaginary 
person. 

This  lightened  her  mute  pain,  which  reverberated  in 
her  heart  like  a  tight  chord. 

The  next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  very  soon  after 
Pavel  and  Audrey  had  left,  Korsunova  knocked  at  the 
door  alarmingly,  and  called  out  hastily: 
*'  Isay  is  killed !    Come,  quick !  " 
The  mother  trembled ;  the  name  of  the  assassin  flashed 
through  her  mind. 

"Who  did  it?"  she  asked  curtly,  throwing  a  shawl 
over  her  shoulders. 

"  The  man's  not  sitting  out  there  mourning  over  Isay. 
He  knocked  him  down  and  fled ! " 

179 


MOTHER 

On  the  street  Marya  said : 

*'  Now  they'll  begin  to  rummage  about  again  and  look 
for  the  murderer.  It's  a  good  thing  your  folks  were  at 
home  last  night.  I  can  bear  witness  to  that.  I  walked 
past  here  after  midnight  and  glanced  into  the  window, 
and  saw  all  of  you  sitting  around  the  table." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Marya  ?  Why,  who 
could  dream  of  such  a  thing  about  them  ?  "  the  mother 
ejaculated  in  fright. 

*'  Well,  who  killed  him  ?  Some  one  from  among 
your  people,  of  course !  "  said  Korsunova,  regarding  the 
idea  as  a  matter  to  be  taken  for  granted.  "  Everybody 
knows  he  spied  on  them." 

The  mother  stopped  to  fetch  breath,  and  put  her  hand 
to  her  bosom. 

"  What  are  you  going  on  that  way  for  ?  Don't  be 
afraid !  Whoever  it  is  will  reap  the  harvest  of  his  own 
rashness.    Let's  go  quick,  or  else  they'll  take  him  away !  " 

The  mother  walked  on  without  askmg  herself  why  she 
went,  and  shaken  by  the  thought  of  Vyesovshchikov. 

"  There — he's  done  it !  "  Her  mind  was  held  fast  by 
the  one  idea. 

Not  far  from  the  factory  walls,  on  the  grounds  of  a 
building  recently  burned  down,  a  crowd  was  gathered, 
tramping  down  the  coal  and  stirring  up  ash  dust.  It 
hummed  and  buzzed  like  a  swarm  of  bees.  There  were 
many  women  in  the  crowd,  even  more  children,  and  store- 
keepers, tavern  waiters,  policemen,  and  the  gendarme  Pet- 
lin,  a  tall  old  man  with  a  woolly,  silvery  beard,  and  deco- 
rations on  his  breast. 

Isay  half  reclined  on  the  ground,  his  back  resting 
against  a  burned  joist,  his  bare  head  hanging  over  his 
right  shoulder,  his  right  hand  in  his  trousers'  pocket, 
and  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  clutching  the  soil. 

i8o 


MOTHER 

The  mother  looked  at  Isay's  face.  One  eye,  wide 
open,  had  its  dim  glance  fixed  upon  his  hat  lying  between 
his  lazily  outstretched  legs.  His  mouth  was  half  open 
in  astonishment,  his  little  shriveled  body,  with  its  pointed 
head  and  bony  face,  seemed  to  be  resting.  The  mother 
crossed  herself  and  heaved  a  sigh.  He  had  been  repul- 
sive to  her  when  alive,  but  now  she  felt  a  mild  pity  for 
him. 

"  No  blood ! "  some  one  remarked  in  an  undertone. 
"  He  was  evidently  knocked  down  with  a  fist  blow." 

A  stout  woman,  tugging  at  the  gendarme's  hand, 
asked : 

"  Maybe  he  is  still  alive?  " 

"  Go  away !  "  the  gendarme  shouted  not  very  loudly, 
withdrawing  his  hand. 

"  The  doctor  was  here  and  said  it  was  all  over,"  some- 
body said  to  the  woman. 

A  sarcastic,  malicious  voice  cried  aloud : 

*'  They've  choked  up  a  denouncer's  mouth.  Serves 
him  right !  " 

The  gendarme  pushed  aside  the  women,  who  were 
crowded  close  about  him,  and  asked  in  a  threatening  tone : 

**  Who  was  that?    Who  made  that  remark?  " 

The  people  scattered  before  him  as  he  thrust  them 
aside.  A  number  took  quickly  to  their  heels,  and  some 
one  in  the  crowd  broke  into  a  mocking  laugh. 

The  mother  went  home. 

"  No  one  is  sorry,"  she  thought.  The  broad  figure  of 
Nikolay  stood  before  her  like  a  shadow,  his  narrow  eyes 
had  a  cold,  cruel  look,  and  he  wrung  his  right  hand  as  if 
it  had  been  hurt. 

When  Pavel  and  Audrey  came  to  dinner,  her  first 
question  was : 

'*  Well  ?  Did  they  arrest  anybody  for  Isay's  murder  ?  " 
i8i 


MOTHER 

"  We  haven^t  heard  anything  about  it/'  answered  the 
Little  Russian. 

She  saw  that  they  were  both  downhearted  and  sullen. 

"Nothing  is  said  about  Nikolay?"  the  mother  ques- 
tioned again  in  a  low  voice. 

Pavel  fixed  his  stern  eyes  on  the  mother,  and  said 
distinctly : 

"  No,  there  is  no  talk  of  him.  He  is  not  even 
thought  of  in  connection  with  this  affair.  He  is  away. 
He  went  off  on  the  river  yesterday,  and  hasn't  returned 
yet.     I  inquired  for  him." 

*'  Thank  God !  "  said  the  mother  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"  Thank  God !  " 

The  Little  Russian  looked  at  her,  and  drooped  his 
head. 

"  He  lies  there,"  the  mother  recounted  pensively,  "  and 
looks  as  though  he  were  surprised ;  that's  the  way  his  face 
looks.  And  no  one  pities  him ;  no  one  bestows  a  good 
word  on  him.  He  is  such  a  tiny  bit  of  a  fellow,  such  a 
wretched-looking  thing,  like  a  bit  of  broken  china.  It 
seems  as  if  he  had  slipped  on  something  and  fallen,  and 
there  he  lies  !  " 

At  dinner  Pavel  suddenly  dropped  his  spoon  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  That's  what  I  don't  understand !  " 

"  What?  "  asked  the  Little  Russian,  who  had  been  sit- 
ting at  the  table  dismal  and  silent. 

"  To  kill  anything  living  because  one  wants  to  eat, 
that's  ugly  enough.  To  kill  a  beast — a  beast  of  prey — 
that  I  can  understand.  I  think  I  myself  could  kill  a  man 
who  had  turned  into  a  beast  preying  upon  mankind.  But 
to  kill  such  a  disgusting,  pitiful  creature — I  don't  under- 
stand how  anyone  could  lift  his  hand  for  an  act  like 
that!" 

182 


MOTHER 

The  Little  Russian  raised  his  shoulders  and  dropped 
them  again ;  then  said : 

"  He  was  no  less  noxious  than  a  beast." 

"  I  know." 

"  We  kill  a  mosquito  for  sucking  just  a  tiny  bit  of  our 
blood/'  the  Little  Russian  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  am  not  saying  anything  about  that.  I 
only  mean  to  say  it's  so  disgusting." 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  "  returned  Audrey  with  another 
shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

After  a  long  pause  Pavel  asked : 

"  Could  you  kill  a  fellow  like  that?  " 

The  Little  Russian  regarded  him  with  his  round  eyes, 
threw  a  glance  at  the  mother,  and  said  sadly,  but  firmly : 

"  For  myself,  I  wouldn't  touch  a  living  thing.  But 
for  comrades,  for  the  cause,  I  am  capable  of  everything. 
I'd  even  kill.    I'd  kill  my  own  son." 

"  Oh,  Andriusha ! "  the  mother  exclaimed  under  her 
breath. 

He  smiled  and  said : 

"  It  can't  be  helped !    Such  is  our  life !  " 

"  Ye-es,"  Pavel  drawled.    "  Such  is  our  life." 

With  sudden  excitation,  as  if  obeying  some  impulse 
from  within,  Audrey  arose,  waved  his  hands,  and  said: 

"How  can  a  man  help  it?  It  so  happens  that  we 
sometimes  must  abhor  a  certain  person  in  order  to  hasten 
the  time  when  it  will  be  possible  only  to  take  delight  in 
one  another.  You  must  destroy  those  who  hinder  the 
progress  of  life,  who  sell  human  beings  for  money  in 
order  to  buy  quiet  or  esteem  for  themselves.  If  a  Judas 
stands  in  the  way  of  honest  people,  lying  in  wait  to 
betray  them,  I  should  be  a  Judas  myself  if  I  did  not  de- 
stroy him.  It's  sinful,  you  say?  And  do  they,  these 
masters  of  life,  do  they  have  the  right  to  keep  soldiers 

183 


MOTHER 

and  executioners,  public  houses  and  prisons,  places  of 
penal  servitude,  and  all  that  vile  abomination  by  which 
they  hold  themselves  in  quiet  security  and  in  comfort? 
If  it  happens  sometimes  that  I  am  compelled  to  take  their 
stick  into  my  own  hands,  what  am  I  to  do  then?  Why, 
I  am  going  to  take  it,  of  course.  I  will  not  decline.  They 
kill  us  out  by  the  tens  and  hundreds.  That  gives  me  the 
right  to  raise  my  hand  and  level  it  against  one  of  the 
enemy,  against  that  one  of  their  number  who  comes 
closest  to  me,  and  makes  himself  more  directly  noxious  to 
the  work  of  my  life  than  the  others.  This  is  logic ;  but 
I  go  against  logic  for  once.  I  do  not  need  your  logic 
now.  I  know  that  their  blood  can  bring  no  results,  I 
know  that  their  blood  is  barren,  fruitless !  Truth  grows 
well  only  on  the  soil  irrigated  with  the  copious  rain  of  our 
own  blood,  and  their  putrid  blood  goes  to  waste,  without 
a  trace  left.  I  know  it !  But  I  take  the  sin  upon  myself. 
I'll  kill,  if  I  see  a  need  for  it !  I  speak  only  for  myself, 
mind  you.  My  crime  dies  with  me.  It  will  not  remain 
a  blot  upon  the  future.  It  will  sully  no  one  but  myself 
— no  one  but  myself." 

He  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room,  waving  his  hands 
in  front  of  him,  as  if  he  were  cutting  something  in  the 
air  out  of  his  way.  The  mother  looked  at  him  with  an 
expression  of  melancholy  and  alarm.  She  felt  as  though 
something  had  hit  him,  and  that  he  was  pained.  The 
dangerous  thoughts  about  murder  left  her.  If  Vyesov- 
shchikov  had  not  killed  Isay,  none  of  Pavel's  comrades 
could  have  done  the  deed.  Pavel  listened  to  the  Little 
Russian  with  drooping  head,  and  Audrey  stubbornly  con- 
tinued in  a  forceful  tone : 

^'  In  your  forward  march  it  sometimes  chances  that 
you  must  go  against  your  very  own  self.  You  must  be 
able  to  give  up  everything — your  heart  and  all.    To  give 

184 


MOTHER 

your  life,  to  die  for  the  cause — that's  simple.  Give  more ! 
Give  that  which  is  dearer  to  you  than  your  life!  Then 
you  will  see  that  grow  with  a  vigorous  growth  which 
is  dearest  to  you — your  truth !  " 

He  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  his  face  grown 
pale  and  his  eyes  half  closed.  Raising  his  hand  and  shak- 
ing it,  he  began  slowly  in  a  solemn  tone  of  assurance  with 
faith  and  with  strength : 

"  There  will  come  a  time,  I  know,  when  people  will 
take  delight  in  one  another,  when  each  will  be  like  a  star 
to  the  other,  and  when  each  will  listen  to  his  fellow  as 
to  music.  The  free  men  will  walk  upon  the  earth,  men 
great  in  their  freedom.  They  will  walk  with  open  hearts, 
and  the  heart  of  each  will  be  pure  of  envy  and  greed, 
and  therefore  all  mankind  will  be  without  malice,  and 
there  will  be  nothing  to  divorce  the  heart  from  reason. 
Then  life  will  be  one  great  service  to  man !  His  figure 
will  be  raised  to  lofty  heights — for  to  free  men  all  heights 
are  attainable.  Then  we  shall  live  in  truth  and  freedom 
and  in  beauty,  and  those  will  be  accounted  the  best  who 
will  the  more  widely  embrace  the  world  with  their  hearts, 
and  whose  love  of  it  will  be  the  profoundest;  those  will 
be  the  best  who  will  be  the  freest;  for  in  them  is  the 
greatest  beauty.  Then  will  life  be  great,  and  the  people 
will  be  great  who  live  that  life." 

He  ceased  and  straightened  himself.  Then  swinging 
to  and  fro  like  the  tongue  of  a  bell,  he  added  in  a  reso- 
nant voice  that  seemed  to  issue  from  the  depths  of  his 
breast : 

"  So  for  the  sake  of  this  life  I  am  prepared  for  every- 
thing! I  will  tear  my  heart  out,  if  necessary,  and  will 
trample  it  with  my  own  feet ! " 

His  face  quivered  and  stiffened  with  excitement,  and 
great,  heavy  tears  rolled  down  one  after  the  other. 

185 


MO  the; R 

Pavel  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  him  with  a  pale 
face  and  wide-open  eyes.  The  mother  raised  herself  a 
little  over  the  table  with  a  feeling  that  something  great 
was  growing  and  impending. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Andrey  ?  "  Pavel  asked 
softly. 

The  Little  Russian  shook  his  head,  stretched  him- 
self like  a  violin  string,  and  said,  looking  at  the 
mother : 

"  I  struck  Isay." 

She  rose,  and  quickly  walked  up  to  him,  all  in  a 
tremble,  and  seized  his  hands.  He  tried  to  free  his  right 
hand,  but  she  held  it  firmly  in  her  grasp  and  whispered 
hotly : 

"  My  dear,  my  own,  hush !  It's  nothing — it's  nothing 
— nothing,  Pasha !  Andriushenka — oh,  Vv^hat  a  calamity ! 
You  sufferer !    My  darling  heart !  " 

"  Wait,  mother,"  the  Little  Russian  muttered  hoarse- 
ly.   "  ril  tell  you  how  it  happened." 

"  Don't !  "  she  whispered,  looking  at  him  with  tears 
in  her  eyes.  "  Don't,  Andriusha !  It  isn't  our  business-. 
It's  God's  affair!" 

Pavel  came  up  to  him  slowly,  looking  at  his  com- 
rade with  moist  eyes.  He  was  pale,  and  his  lips  trembled. 
With  a  strange  smile  he  said  softly  and  slowly: 

"  Come,  give  me  your  hand,  Andrey.  I  want  to  shake 
hands  with  you.  Upon  my  word,  I  understand  how  hard 
it  is  for  you !  " 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  Little  Russian  without  looking  at 
them,  shaking  his  head,  and  tearing  himself  away  from 
their  grasp.  When  he  succeeded  in  freeing  his  right  hand 
from  the  mother's,  Pavel  caught  it,  pressing  it  vigorously 
and  wringing  it. 

"  And  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  killed  that  man  ?  '* 
i86 


MOTHER 

said  the  mother.  "  No,  you  didn't  do  it !  If  I  saw  it  with 
my  own  eyes  I  wouldn't  beUeve  it." 

"  Stop,  Andrey !  Motlier  is  right.  This  thing  is  be- 
yond our  judgment." 

With  one  hand  pressing  Audrey's,  Pavel  laid  the 
other  on  his  shoulder,  as  if  wishing  to  stop  the  tremor 
in  his  tall  body.  The  Little  Russian  bent  his  head  down 
toward  him,  and  said  in  a  broken,  mournful  voice : 

"  I  didn't  want  to  do  it,  you  know,  Pavel.  It  hap- 
pened when  you  walked  ahead,  and  I  remained  behind 
with  Ivan  Gusev.  Isay  came  from  around  a  corner  and 
stopped  to  look  at  us,  and  smiled  at  us.  Ivan  walked 
off  home,  and  I  went  on  toward  the  factory — Isay  at  my 
side !  "  Andrey  stopped,  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  con- 
tinued :  "  No  one  ever  insulted  me  in  such  an  ugly  way 
as  that  dog !  " 

The  mother  pulled  the  Little  Russian  by  the  hand 
toward  the  table,  gave  him  a  shove,  and  finally  succeeded 
in  seating  him  on  a  chair.  She  sat  down  at  his  side  close 
to  him,  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Pavel  stood  in  front  of 
them,  holding  Audrey's  hand  in  his  and  pressing  it. 

"  I  understand  how  hard  it  is  for  you,"  he  said. 

"  He  told  me  that  they  know  us  all,  that  we  are  all 
on  the  gendarme's  record,  and  that  we  are  going  to  be 
dragged  in  before  the  first  of  May.  I  didn't  answer,  I 
laughed,  but  my  blood  boiled.  He  began  to  tell  me  that 
I  was  a  clever  fellow,  and  that  I  oughtn't  to  go  on  the 
way  I  was  going,  but  that  I  should  rather " 

The  Little  Russian  stopped,  wiped  his  face  with  his 
right  hand,  shook  his  head,  and  a  dry  gleam  flashed  in 
his  eyes. 

"  I  understand !  "  said  Pavel. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  should  rather  enter  the  service  of 
the  law."  The  Little  Russian  waved  his  hand,  and  swung 
13  187 


MOTHER 

his  clenched  fist.  "  The  law  ! — curse  his  soul !  "  he  hissed 
between  his  teeth.  ''  It  would  have  been  better  if  he  had 
struck  me  in  the  face.  It  would  have  been  easier  for 
me,  and  better  for  him,  perhaps,  too !  But  when  he  spit 
his  dirty  thought  into  my  heart  that  way,  I  could  not 
bear  it." 

Audrey  pulled  his  hand  convulsively  from  Pavel's, 
and  said  more  hoarsely  with  disgust  in  his  face: 

"  I  dealt  him  a  back-hand  blow  like  that,  downward 
and  aslant,  and  walked  away.  I  didn't  even  stop  to  look 
at  him;  I  heard  him  fall.  He  dropped  and  was  silent. 
I  didn't  dream  of  anything  serious.  I  walked  on  peace- 
fully, just  as  if  I  had  done  no  more  than  kick  a  frog 
with  my  foot.  And  then — what's  all  this?  I  started  to 
work,  and  I  heard  them  shouting :  '  Isay  is  killed ! '  I 
didn't  even  believe  it,  but  my  hand  grew  numb — and  I 
felt  awkward  in  working  with  it.  It  didn't  hurt  me,  but 
it  seemed  to  have  grown  shorter." 

He  looked  at  his  hand  obliquely  and  said : 

"  All  my  life,  I  suppose,  I  won't  be  able  to  wash  off 
that  dirty  stain  from  it." 

"  If  only  your  heart  is  pure,  my  dear  boy ! "  the 
mother  said  softly,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  I  don't  regard  myself  as  guilty ;  no,  I  don't !  "  said 
the  Little  Russian  firmly.  "  But  it's  disgust.  It  disgusts 
me  to  carry  such  dirt  inside  of  me.  I  had  no  need  of  it. 
It  wasn't  called  for." 

**  What  do  you  think  of  doing?  "  asked  Pavel,  giving 
him  a  suspicious  look. 

"What  am  I  going  to  do?"  the  Little  Russian  re- 
peated thoughtfully,  drooping  his  head.  Then  raising  it 
again  he  said  with  a  smile :  "  I  am  not  afraid,  of  course, 
to  say  that  it  was  I  who  struck  him.  But  I  am  ashamed 
to  say  it.     I  am  ashamed  to  go  to  prison,  and  even  to 

i88 


MOTHMR 

hard  labor,  maybe,  for  such  a — nothing.  If  some  one 
else  is  accused,  then  I'll  go  and  confess.  But  otherwise, 
go  all  of  my  own  accord — I  cannot !  " 

He  waved  his  hands,  rose,  and  repeated : 

"  I  cannot !    I  am  ashamed  !  " 

The  whistle  blew.  The  Little  Russian,  bending  his 
head  to  one  side,  listened  to  the  powerful  roar,  and  shak- 
ing himself,  said: 

"  I  am  not  going  to  work." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Pavel. 

'*  ril  go  to  the  bath  house,"  said  the  Little  Russian, 
smiling.  He  got  ready  in  silence  and  walked  off,  sullen 
and  low-spirited. 

The  mother  followed  him  with  a  compassionate  look. 

"  Say  what  you  please.  Pasha,  I  cannot  believe  him ! 
And  even  if  I  did  believe  him,  I  wouldn't  lay  any  blame 
on  him.  No,  I  would  not.  I  know  it's  sinful  to  kill  a 
man ;  I  believe  in  God  and  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but 
still  I  don't  think  Audrey  guilty.  I'm  sorry  for  Isay. 
He's  such  a  tiny  bit  of  a  manikin.  He  lies  there  in  aston- 
ishment. When  I  looked  at  him  I  remembered  how  he 
threatened  to  have  you  hanged.  And  yet  I  neither  felt 
hatred  toward  him  nor  joy  because  he  was  dead.  I  simply 
felt  sorry.  But  now  that  I  know  by  whose  hand  he 
fell  I  am  not  even  sorry  for  him." 

She  suddenly  became  silent,  reflected  a  while,  and 
with  a  smile  of  surprise,  exclaimed : 

"  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  Do  you  hear  what  I  am  saying, 
Pasha?" 

Pavel  apparently  had  not  heard  her.  Slowly  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room  with  drooping  head,  he  said  pen- 
sively and  with  exasperation : 

"  Audrey  won't  forgive  himself  soon,  if  he'll  forgive 
himself  at  all!     There  is  life  for  you,  mother.    You  see 

189 


MOTHER 

the  position  in  which  people  are  placed  toward  one  an- 
other. You  don't  want  to,  but  you  must  strike!  And 
strike  whom?  Such  a  helpless  being.  He  is  more 
wretched  even  than  you  because  he  is  stupid.  The  police, 
the  gendarmes,  the  soldiers,  the  spies — they  arc  all  our 
enemies,  and  yet  they  are  all  such  people  as  we  are. 
Their  blood  is  sucked  out  of  them  just  as  ours  is,  and 
they  are  no  more  regarded  as  human  beings  than  we  are. 
That's  the  way  it  is.  But  they  have  set  one  part  of  the 
people  against  the  other,  blinded  them  with  fear,  bound 
them  all  hand  and  foot,  squeezed  them,  and  drained  their 
blood,  and  used  some  as  clubs  against  the  others.  They've 
turned  men  into  weapons,  into  sticks  and  stones,  and 
called  it  civilization,  government." 

He  walked  up  to  his  mother  and  said  to  her  firmly : 
"  That's  crime,  mother !  The  heinous  crime  of  killing 
millions  of  people,  the  murder  of  millions  of  souls !  You 
understand — they  kill  the  soul!  You  see  the  difference 
between  them  and  us.  He  killed  a  man  unwittingly.  He 
feels  disgusted,  ashamed,  sick — the  main  thing  is  he  feels 
disgusted!  But  they  kill  off  thousands  calmly,  without 
a  qualm,  without  pity,  without  a  shudder  of  the  heart. 
They  kill  with  pleasure  and  with  delight.  And  why? 
They  stifle  everybody  and  everything  to  death  merely  to 
keep  the  timber  of  their  houses  secure,  their  furniture, 
their  silver,  their  gold,  their  worthless  papers — all  that 
cheap  trash  which  gives  them  control  over  the  people. 
Think,  it's  not  for  their  own  selves,  for  their  persons, 
that  they  protect  themselves  thus,  using  murder  and  the 
mutilation  of  souls  as  a  means — it's  not  for  themselves 
they  do  it,  but  for  the  sake  of  their  possessions.  They 
do  not  guard  themselves  from  within,  but  from  without." 
He  bent  over  to  her,  took  her  hands,  and  shaking 
them  said: 

190 


MOTHER 

"  If  you  felt  the  abomination  of  It  all,  the  disgrace 
and  rottenness,  you  would  understand  our  truth;  you 
would  then  perceive  how  great  it  is,  how  glorious ! " 

The  mother  arose  agitated,  full  of  a  desire  to  sink  her 
heart  into  the  heart  of  her  son,  and  to  join  them  in  one 
burning,  flaming  torch. 

"  Wait,  Pasha,  wait ! "  she  muttered,  panting  for 
breath.    **  I  am  a  human  being.    I  feel.    Wait." 

There  was  a  loud  noise  of  some  one  entering  the 
porch.    Both  of  them  started  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  If  it's  the  police  coming  for  Audrey — "  Pavel 
whispered. 

"  I  know  nothing — nothing !  "  the  mother  whispered 
back.    "Oh.  God!" 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HE    door   opened   slowly,    and   bending   to 
pass  through,  Rybin  strode  in  heavily. 

**  Here    I    am ! "    he    said,    raising    his 
head  and  smiling. 

He  wore  a  short  fur  overcoat,  all  stained 
with  tar,  a  pair  of  dark  mittens  stuck  from  his  belt,  and 
his  head  was  covered  with  a  shaggy  fur  cap. 

"  Are  you  well  ?  Have  they  let  you  out  of  prison, 
Pavel  ?    So,  how  are  you,  Nilovna  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  ?    How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  " 
Slowly  removing  his  overclothes,  Rybin  said : 
**  Yes,  I've  turned  muzhik  again.     You're  gradually 
turning  gentlemen,   and   I   am  turning  the   other  way. 
That's  it!" 

Pulling  his  ticking  shirt  straight,  he  passed  through 
the  room,  examined  it  attentively,  and  remarked : 

"  You  can  see  your  property  has  not  increased,  but 
you've  grown  richer  in  books.  So!  That's  the  dearest 
possession,  books  are,  it's  true.  Well,  tell  me  how  things 
are  going  with  you." 

"  Things  are  going  forward,"  said  Pavel. 
"  Yes,"  said  Rybin. 

"  We  plow  and  we  sow, 
All  high  and  low. 
Boasting  is  cheap. 
But  the  harvest  we  reap, 
A  feast  we'll  make, 
And  a  rest  we'll  take." 
192 


MOTHER 

"  Will  you  have  some  tea  ?  "  asked  the  mother. 

"  Yes,  I'll  have  some  tea,  and  I'll  take  a  sip  of 
vodka,  too;  and  if  you'll  give  me  something  to  eat,  I 
won't  decline  it,  either.  I  am  glad  to  see  you — that's 
what !  " 

"  How's  the  world  wagging  with  you,  Mikhail 
Ivanych  ?  "  Pavel  inquired,  taking  a  seat  opposite  Rybin. 

"  So,  so.  Fairly  well.  I  settled  at  Edilgeyev.  Have 
you  ever  heard  of  Edilgeyev  ?  It's  a  fine  village.  There 
are  two  fairs  a  year  there;  over  two  thousand  in- 
habitants. The  people  are  an  evil  pack.  There's  no 
land.     It's  leased  out  in  lots.     Poor  soil !  " 

"  Do  you  talk  to  them  ?  "  asked  Pavel,  becoming  ani- 
mated. 

"  I  don't  keep  mum.  You  know  I  have  all  your 
leaflets  with  me.  I  grabbed  them  away  from  here — 
thirty-four  of  them.  But  I  carry  on  my  propaganda 
chiefly  with  the  Bible.  You  can  get  something  out  of 
it.  It's  a  thick  book.  It's  a  government  book.  It's  pub- 
lished by  the  Holy  Synod.  It's  easy  to  believe !  "  He 
gave  Pavel  a  wink,  and  continued  with  a  laugh :  "  But 
that's  not  enough !  I  have  come  here  to  you  to  get  books. 
Yefim  is  here,  too.  We  are  transporting  tar;  and  so  we 
turned  aside  to  stop  at  your  house.  You  stock  me  up 
with  books  before  Yefim  comes.  He  doesn't  have  to 
know  too  much !  " 

"  Mother,"  said  Pavel,  '^  go  get  some  books  !  They'll 
know  what  to  give  you.    Tell  them  it's  for  the  country." 

"  All  right.  The  samovar  will  be  ready  in  a  moment, 
and  then  I'll  go." 

"  You  have  gone  into  this  movement,  too,  Nilovna  ?  " 
asked  Rybin  with  a  smile.  "Very  well.  We  have  lots 
of  eager  candidates  for  books.  There's  a  teacher  there 
who  creates  a  desire  for  them.     He's  a  fine  fellow,  they 

193 


MOTHER 

say,  although  he  belongs  to  the  clergy.  We  have  a  wom- 
an teacher,  too,  about  seven  versts  from  the  village.  But 
they  don't  work  with  illegal  books ;  they're  a  '  law  and 
order  '  crowd  out  there ;  they're  afraid.  But  I  want  for- 
bidden books — sharp,  pointed  books.  I'll  slip  them 
through  their  fingers.  When  the  police  commissioners 
or  the  priest  see  that  they  are  illegal  books,  they'll  think 
it's  the  teachers  who  circulate  them.  And  in  the  mean- 
time I'll  remain  in  the  background." 

Well  content  with  his  hard,  practical  sense,  he  grinned 
merrily. 

"  Hm !  "  thought  the  mother.  "  He  looks  like  a  bear 
and  behaves  like  a  fox." 

Pavel  rose,  and  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  with 
even  steps,  said  reproachfully: 

"  We'll  let  you  have  the  books,  but  what  you  want 
to  do  is  not  right,  Mikhail  Ivanovich." 

"  Why  is  it  not  right  ? "  asked  Rybin,  opening  his 
eyes  in  astonishment. 

"  You  yourself  ought  to  answer  for  what  you  do.  It 
is  not  right  to  manage  matters  so  that  others  should  suffer 
for  what  you  do."    Pavel  spoke  sternly. 

Rybin  looked  at  the  floor,  shook  his  head,  and  said : 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  If  the  teachers  are  suspected,"  said  Pavel,  station- 
ing himself  in  front  of  Rybin,  "  of  distributing  illegal 
books,  don't  you  think  they'll  be  put  in  jail  for  it?  " 

''  Yes.     Well,  what  if  they  are?  " 

"  But  it's  you  who  distribute  the  books,  not  they. 
Then  it's  you  that  ought  to  go  to  prison." 

"  What  a  strange  fellow  you  are !  "  said  Rybin  with 
a  smile,  striking  his  hand  on  his  knee.  "  Who  would 
suspect  me,  a  muzhik,  of  occupying  myself  with  such 
matters?     Why,  does  such  a  thing  happen?     Books  are 

194 


MOTHER 

affairs  of  the  masters,  and  it's  for  them  to  answer  for 
them." 

The  mother  felt  that  Pavel  did  not  understand  Rybin, 
and  she  saw  that  he  was  screwing  up  his  eyes — a  sign 
of  anger.    So  she  interjected  in  a  cautious,  soft  voice: 

"  Mikhail  Ivanovich  wants  to  fix  it  so  that  he  should 
be  able  to  go  on  with  his  work,  and  that  others  should 
take  the  punishment  for  it." 

"  That's  it !  "  said  Rybin,  stroking  his  beard. 

"  Mother,"  Pavel  asked  dryly,  ''  suppose  some  of  our 
people,  Andrey,  for  example,  did  something  behind  my 
back,  and  1  were  put  in  prison  for  it,  what  would  you  say 
to  that  ? " 

The  mother  started,  looked  at  her  son  in  perplexity, 
and  said,  shaking  her  head  in  negation : 

'*  Why,  is  it  possible  to  act  that  way  toward  a  com- 
rade?" 

"Aha!  Yes!"  Rybin  drawled.  "I  understand  you, 
Pavel."  And  with  a  comical  wink  toward  the  mother,  he 
added :  "  This  is  a  delicate  matter,  mother."  And  again 
turning  to  Pavel  he  held  forth  in  a  didactic  manner: 
^*  Your  ideas  on  this  subject  are  very  green,  brother.  In 
secret  work  there  is  no  honor.  Think !  In  the  first  place, 
they'll  put  those  persons  in  prison  on  whom  they  find 
the  books,  and  not  the  teachers.  That's  number  one! 
Secondly,  even  though  the  teachers  give  the  people  only 
legal  books  to  read,  you  know  that  they  contain  pro- 
hibited things  just  the  same  as  in  the  forbidden  books; 
only  they  are  put  in  a  different  language.  The  truths  are 
fewer.  That's  number  two.  I  mean  to  say,  they  want 
the  same  thing  that  I  do ;  only  they  proceed  by  side  paths, 
while  I  travel  on  the  broad  highway.  And  thirdly, 
"brother,  what  business  have  I  with  them?  How  can  a 
traveler  on  foot  strike  up  friendship  with  a  man  on  horse- 

195 


MOTHER 

back  ?  Toward  a  muzhik,  maybe,  I  wouldn*t  want  to  act 
that  way.  But  these  people,  one  a  clergyman,  the  other 
the  daughter  of  a  land  proprietor,  why  they  want  to  up- 
lift the  people,  I  cannot  understand.  Their  ideas,  the 
ideas  of  the  masters,  are  unintelligible  to  me,  a  muzhik. 
What  I  do  myself,  I  know,  but  what  they  are  after  I  can- 
not tell.  For  thousands  of  years  they  have  punctiliously 
and  consistently  pursued  the  business  of  being  masters, 
and  have  fleeced  and  flayed  the  skins  of  the  muzhiks; 
and  all  of  a  sudden  they  wake  up  and  want  to  open  the 
muzhik's  eyes.  I  am  not  a  man  for  fairy  tales,  brother, 
and  that's  in  the  nature  of  a  fairy  tale.  That's  why  I 
can't  get  interested  in  them.  The  ways  of  the  masters 
are  strange  to  me.  You  travel  in  winter,  and  you 
see  some  living  creature  in  front  of  you.  But  what 
it  is  —  a  wolf,  a  fox,  or  just  a  plain  dog  —  you  don't 
know." 

The  mother  glanced  at  her  son.  His  face  wore  a 
gloomy  expression. 

Rybin's  eyes  sparkled  with  a  dark  gleam.  He  looked 
at  Pavel,  combing  down  his  beard  with  his  fingers.  His 
air  was  at  once  complacent  and  excited. 

"  I  have  no  time  to  flirt,"  he  said.  "  Life  is  a  stern 
matter.  We  live  in  dog  houses,  not  in  sheep  pens,  and 
every  pack  barks  after  its  own  fashion." 

"  There  are  some  masters,"  said  the  mother,  recaUing 
certain  familiar  faces,  "who  die  for  the  people,  and  let 
themselves  be  tortured  all  their  lives  in  prison." 

''  Their  calculations  are  diflferent,  and  their  deserts 
are  diflferent,"  said  Rybin.  "  The  muzhik  grown  rich 
turns  into  a  gentleman,  and  the  gentleman  grown  poor 
goes  to  the  muzhik.  Willy-nilly,  he  must  have  a  pure 
soul,  if  his  purse  is  empty.  Do  you  remember,  Pavel, 
vou  explained  to  me  that  as  a  man  lives,  so  he  also  thinks, 

196 


MOTHER 

and  that  if  the  worfwingman  says  '  Yes/  the  master  must 
say  '  No/  and  if  the  workingman  says  '  No/  the  master, 
because  of  the  nature  of  the  beast,  is  bound  to  cry  '  Yes/ 
So  you  see,  their  natures  are  different  one  from  the 
other.  The  muzhik  has  his  nature,  and  the  gentleman 
has  his.  When  the  peasant  has  a  full  stomach,  the  gen- 
tleman passes  sleepless  nights.  Of  course,  every  fold 
has  its  black  sheep,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  defend  the 
peasants  wholesale/' 

Rybin  rose  to  his  feet  somber  and  powerful.  His 
face  darkened,  his  beard  quivered  as  if  he  ground  his 
teeth  inaudibly,  and  he  continued  in  a  lowered  voice : 

"  For  five  years  I  beat  about  from  factory  to  factory, 
and  got  unaccustomed  to  the  village.  Then  I  went  to  the 
village  again,  looked  around,  and  I  found  I  could  not  live 
like  that  any  more !  You  understand  ?  I  can't.  You 
live  here,  you  don't  know  hunger,  you  don't  see  such  out- 
rages. There  hunger  stalks  after  a  man  all  his  life  like 
a  shadow,  and  he  has  no  hope  for  bread — no  hope !  Hun- 
ger destroys  the  soul  of  the  people;  the  very  image  of 
man  is  effaced  from  their  countenances.  They  do  not 
live,  they  rot  in  dire  unavoidable  want.  And  around 
them  the  government  authorities  watch  like  ravens  to 
see  if  a  crumb  is  not  left  over.  And  if  they  do  find  a 
crumb,  they  snatch  that  away,  too,  and  give  you  a  punch 
in  the  face  besides." 

Rybin  looked  around,  bent  down  to  Pavel,  his  hand 
resting  on  the  table : 

*'  I  even  got  sick  and  faint  when  I  saw  that  life  again. 
I  looked  around  me — but  I  couldn't!  However,  I  con- 
quered my  repulsion.  '  Fiddlesticks  ! '  I  said.  '  I  won't 
let  my  feelings  get  the  better  of  me.  Fll  stay  here.  I 
won't  get  your  bread  for  you ;  but  Fll  cook  you  a  pretty 
mess,  I  will.'    I  carry  within  me  the  wrongs  of  my  people 

197 


MOTHER 

and  hatred  of  the  oppressor.  I  feel  these  wrongs  like  a 
knife  constantly  cutting  at  my  heart." 

Perspiration  broke  out  on  his  forehead;  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  slowly  bent  toward  Pavel,  laying  a 
tremulous  hand  on  his  shoulder: 

"Give  me  your  help!  Let  me  have  books — such 
books  that  when  a  man  has  read  them  he  will  not  be  able 
to  rest.  Put  a  prickly  hedgehog  to  his  brains.  Tell  those 
city  folks  who  write  for  you  to  write  for  the  villagers 
also.  Let  them  write  such  hot  truth  that  it  will  scald  the 
village,  that  the  people  will  even  rush  to  their  death." 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  laying  emphasis  on  each 
Vv^ord,  he  said  hoarsely: 

"  Let  death  make  amends  for  death.  That  is,  die  so 
that  the  people  should  arise  to  life  again.  And  let 
thousands  die  in  order  that  hosts  of  people  all  over  the: 
earth  may  arise  to  life  again.  That's  it!  It's  easy  tO" 
die — but  let  the  people  rise  to  life  again!  That's  a  dif- 
ferent  thing!    Let  them  rise  up  in  rebellion!  " 

The  mother  brought  in  the  samovar,  looking  askance 
at  Rybin.  His  strong,  heavy  words  oppressed  her. 
Something  in  him  reminded  her  of  her  husband.  He, 
too,  showed  his  teeth,  waved  his  hands,  and  rolled  up 
his  sleeves;  in  him,  too,  there  was  that  impatient  wrath, 
impatient  but  dumb.  Rybin  was  not  dumb;  he  was  not 
silent;  he  spoke,  and  therefore  was  less  terrible. 

"  That's  necessary,"  said  Pavel,  nodding  his  head. 
"  We  need  a  newspaper  for  the  villages,  too.  Give  us 
material,  and  we'll  print  you  a  newspaper." 

The  mother  looked  at  her  son  with  a  smile,  and  shook 
her  head.  She  had  quietly  put  on  her  wraps  and  now 
went  out  of  the  house. 

**  Yes,  do  it.  We'll  give  you  everything.  Write  as 
3imply  as  possible,  so  that  even  calves  could  understand,'* 

195 


MOTHER 

Rybin  cried.    Then,  suddenly  stepping  back  from  Pavel, 
he  said,  as  he  shook  his  head : 

''  Ah,  me,  if  I  were  a  Jew !  The  Jew,  my  dear  boy, 
is  the  most  believing  man  in  the  world!  Isaiah,  the 
prophet,  or  Job,  the  patient,  believed  more  strongly  than 
Christ's  apostles.  They  could  say  words  to  make  a  man's 
hair  stand  on  end.  But  the  apostles,  you  see,  Pavel, 
couldn't.  The  prophets  believed  not  in  the  church,  but 
in  themselves;  they  had  their  God  in  themselves.  The 
apostles — they  built  churches;  and  the  church  is  law. 
Man  must  believe  in  himself,  not  in  law.  Man  carries 
the  truth  of  God  in  his  soul;  he  is  not  a  police  captain 
on  earth,  nor  a  slave !    All  the  laws  are  in  myself." 

The  kitchen  door  opened,  and  somebody  walked  in. 

"It's  Yefim,"  said  Rybin,  looking  into  the  kitchen. 
"  Come  here,  Yefim.  As  for  you,  Pavel,  think !  Think 
a  whole  lot.  There  is  a  great  deal  to  think  about.  This 
is  Yefim.  And  this  man's  name  is  Pavel.  I  told  you 
about  him." 

A  light-haired,  broad-faced  young  fellow  In  a  short 
fur  overcoat,  well  built  and  evidently  strong,  stood  before 
Pavel,  holding  his  cap  in  both  hands  and  looking  at  him 
from  the  corners  of  his  gray  eyes. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  he  said  hoarsely,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Pavel,  and  stroked  his  curly  hair  with  both 
hands.  He  looked  around  the  room,  immediately  spied 
the  bookshelf,  and  walked  over  to  it  slowly. 

"  Went  straight  to  them ! "  Rybin  said,  winking  to 
Pavel. 

Yefim  started  to  examine  the  books,  and  said : 

"A  whole  lot  of  reading  here!  But  I  suppose  you 
haven't  much  time  for  it.  Down  in  the  village  they  have 
more  time  for  reading." 

"But  less  desire?"  Pavel  asked. 
199 


MOTHER 

"  Why  ?  They  have  the  desire,  too/'  answered  the  fel- 
low, rubbing  his  chin.  "'  The  times  are  so  now  that  if 
you  don't  think,  you  might  as  well  lie  down  and  die.  But 
the  people  don't  want  to  die ;  and  so  they've  begun  to 
make  their  brains  work.     'Geology' — what's  that?" 

Pavel  explained. 

**  We  don't  need  it !  "  Yefim  said,  replacing  the  book 
on  the  shelf. 

Rybin  sighed  noisily,  and  said : 

'''  The  peasant  is  not  so  much  interested  to  know  where 
the  land  came  from  as  where  it's  gone  to,  how  it's  been 
snatched  from  underneath  his  feet  by  the  gentry.  It 
doesn't  matter  to  him  whether  it's  fixed  or  whether  it 
revolves — that's  of  no  importance — you  can  hang  it  on  a 
rope,  if  you  want  to,  provided  it  feeds  him ;  you  can  nail 
it  to  the  skies,  provided  it  gives  him  enough  to  eat." 

"  '  The  History  of  Slavery,'  "  Yefim  read  out  again, 
and  asked  Pavel :  "  Is  it  about  us  ?  " 

"  Here's  an  account  of  Russian  serfdom,  too,"  said 
Pavel,  giving  him  another  book.  Yefim  took  it,  turned 
it  in  his  hands,  and  putting  it  aside,  said  calmly : 

"  That's  out  of  date." 

"Have  you  an  apportionment  of  land  for  yourself?" 
inquired  Pavel. 

*'We?  Yes,  we  have.  We  are  three  brothers,  and 
our  portion  is  about  ten  acres  and  a  half — all  sand — good 
for  polishing  brass,  but  poor  for  making  bread."  After 
a  pause  he  continued :  "  I've  freed  myself  from  the  soil. 
What's  the  use  ?  It  does  not  feed ;  it  ties  one's  hands. 
This  is  the  fourth  year  that  I'm  working  as  a  hired  man. 
I've  got  to  become  a  soldier  this  fall.  Uncle  Mikhail 
says :  '  Don't  go.  Now,'  he  says,  '  the  soldiers  are  be- 
ing sent  to  beat  the  people.'  However,  I  think  I'll  go. 
The  army  existed  at  the  time  of  Stepan  Timofeyevich 

2QO 


MOTHER 

Razin  and  Pugachev.  The  time  has  come  to  make  an 
end  of  it.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  firmly 
at  Pavel. 

*'  Yes,  the  time  has  come."  The  answer  was  accom- 
panied by  a  smile.  "  But  it's  hard.  You  must  know  what 
to  say  to  soldiers,  and  how  to  say  it." 

"  We'll  learn ;  we'll  know  how,"  Yefim  said. 

"  And  if  the  superiors  catch  you  at  it,  they  may 
shoot  you  down,"  Pavel  concluded,  looking  curiously  at 
Yefim. 

'*  They  will  show  no  mercy,"  the  peasant  assented 
calmly,  and  resumed  his  examination  of  the  books. 

"  Drink  your  tea,  Yefim ;  we've  got  to  leave  soon," 
said  Rybin. 

"  Directly."  And  Yefim  asked  again :  "  Revolution 
is  an  uprising,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Audrey  came,, red,  perspiring,  and  dejected.  He 
shook  Yefim's  hand~without  saying  anything,  sat  down 
by  Rybin's  side,  and  smiled  as  he  looked  at  him. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  Why  so  blue  ?  "  Rybin  asked, 
tapping  his  knee. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Are  you  a  workingman,  too  ?  "  asked  Yefim,  nod- 
ding his  head  toward  the  Little  Russian. 

''  Yes,"  Audrey  answered.    "  Why  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  first  time  he's  seen  factory  workmen," 
explained  Rybin.  "  He  says  they're  different  from 
others." 

"  How  so  ?  "  Pavel  asked. 

Yefim  looked  carefully  at  Audrey  and  said : 

"  You  have  sharp  bones  ;  peasants'  bones  are  rounder." 

*'  The  peasant  stands  more  firmly  on  his  feet,"  Rybin 
supplemented.  "  He  feels  the  ground  under  him  although 
he  does  not  possess  it.    Yet  he  feels  the  earth.     But  the 

201 


MOTHER 

factory  workingman  is  something  like  a  bird.  He  has 
no  home.  To-day  he's  here,  to-morrow  there.  Even  his 
wife  can't  attach  him  to  the  same  spot.  At  the  least 
provocation — farewell,  my  dear !  and  off  he  goes  to  look 
for  something  better.  But  the  peasant  wants  to  improve 
himself  just  where  he  is  without  moving  off  the  spot. 
There's  your  mother !  "  And  Rybin  went  out  into  the 
kitchen. 

Yefim  approached  Pavel,  and  with  embarrassment 
asked : 

"  Perhaps  you  will  give  me  a  book  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

The  peasant's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  said  rapidly: 

"  I'll  return  it.  Some  of  our  folks  bring  tar  not  far 
from  here.  They  will  return  it  for  me.  Thank  you! 
Nowadays  a  book  is  like  a  candle  in  the  night  to  u«." 

Rybin,  already  dressed  and  tightly  girt,  came  in  and 
said  to  Yefim : 

"  Come,  it's  time  for  us  to  go." 

"  Now,  I  have  something  to  read !  "  exclaimed  Yefim, 
pointing  to  the  book  and  smiling  inwardly.  When  he  had 
gone,  Pavel  animatedly  said,  turning  to  Andrey : 

"  Did  you  notice  those  fellows  ?  " 

*'Y-yes!"  slowly  uttered  the  Little  Russian.  "Like 
clouds  in  the  sunset — thick,  dark  clouds,  moving  slowly." 

"  Mikhail !  "  exclaimed  the  mother.  "  He  looks  as  if 
he  had  never  been  in  a  factory !  A  peasant  again.  And 
how  formidable  he  looks !  " 

"  Fm  sorry  you  weren't  here,"  said  Pavel  to  Andrey, 
who  was  sitting  at  the  table,  staring  gloomily  into  his 
glass  of  tea.  '*  You  could  have  seen  the  play  of  hearts. 
You  always  talk  about  the  heart.  Rybin  got  up  a  lot  of 
steam ;  he  upset  me,  crushed  me.  I  couldn't  even  reply 
to  him.    How  distrustful  he  is  of  people,  and  how  cheaply 

202 


MOTHMR 

he  values  them !  Mother  is  right.  That  man  has  a  for- 
midable power  in  him." 

"  I  noticed  it,"  the  Little  Russian  replied  glumly. 
"  They  have  poisoned  people.  When  the  peasants  rise 
up,  they'll  overturn  absolutely  everything!  They  need 
bare  land,  and  they  will  lay  it  bare,  tear  down  every- 
thing." He  spoke  slowly,  and  it  was  evident  that  his 
mind  was  on  something  else.  The  mother  cautiously 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

'*  Pull  yourself  together,  Andriusha." 

"  Wait  a  little,  my  dear  mother,  my  own !  "  he  begged 
softly  and  kindly.  "  All  this  is  so  ugly — although  I 
didn't  mean  to  do  any  harm.  Wait ! "  And  suddenly 
rousing  himself,  he  said,  striking  the  table  with  his  hand : 
''  Yes,  Pavel,  the  peasant  will  lay  the  land  bare  for  him- 
self when  he  rises  to  his  feet.  He  will  burn  everything 
up,  as  if  after  a  plague,  so  that  all  traces  of  his  wrongs 
will  vanish  in  ashes." 

"  And  then  he  will  get  in  our  way,"  Pavel  observed 
softly. 

"  It's  our  business  to  prevent  that.  We  are  nearer  to 
him ;  he  trusts  us ;  he  will  follow  us." 

"  Do  you  know,  Rybin  proposes  that  we  should  pub- 
lish a  newspaper  for  the  village  ?  " 

"  We  must  do  it,  too.    As  soon  as  possible." 

Pavel  laughed  and  said : 

"  I  feel  bad  I  didn't  argue  with  him." 

"  We'll  have  a  chance  to  argue  with  him  still,"  the 
Little  Russian  rejoined.  "  You  keep  on  playing  your 
flute;  whoever  has  gay  feet,  if  they  haven't  grown  into 
the  ground,  will  dance  to  your  tune.  Rybin  would  prob- 
ably have  said  that  we  don't  feel  the  ground  under  us, 
and  need  not,  either.  Therefore  it's  our  business  to 
shake  it.  Shake  it  once,  and  the  people  will  be  loosened 
14  203 


MOTHER 

from  it;  shake  it  once  more,  and  they'll  tear  themselves 
away." 

The  mother  smiled. 

"  Everything  seems  to  be  simple  to  yovi,  Andriusha." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it's  simple,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  and 
added  gloomily :  "  Like  life."  A  few  minutes  later  he 
said :  *'  I'll  go  take  a  walk  in  the  field." 

"After  the  bath?  The  wind  will  blow  through  you," 
the  mother  warned. 

"  Well,  I  need  a  good  airing." 

"  Look  out,  you'll  catch  a  cold,"  Pavel  said  affection- 
ately.    *'  You'd  better  lie  down  and  try  to  sleep." 

"  No,  I'm  going."  He  put  on  his  wraps,  and  went 
out  without  speaking. 

"  It's  hard  for  him,"  the  mother  sighed. 

"  You  know  what  ?  "  Pavel  observed  to  her.  ''  It's 
very  good  that  you  started  to  say  *  thou '  to  him  after 
that." 

She  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  after  reflect- 
ing a  moment,  said : 

"  Um,  I  didn't  even  notice  how  it  came.  It  came  all 
of  itself.  He  has  grown  so  near  to  me.  I  can't  tell  you 
in  words  just  how  I  feel.    Oh,  such  a  misfortune !  " 

"  You  have  a  good  heart,  mamma,"  Pavel  said  softly. 

"  I'm  very  glad  if  I  have.  If  I  could  only  help  you 
in  some  way,  all  of  you.    If  I  only  could !  " 

"  Don't  fear,  you  will." 

She  laughed  softly : 

**  I  can't  help  fearing;  that's  exactly  what  I  can't 
help.     But  thank  you  for  the  good  word,  my  dear  son." 

"  All  right,  mother ;  don't  let's  talk  about  it  any  more. 
Know  that  I  love  you ;  and  I  thank  you  most  heartily." 

She  walked  into  the  kitchen  in  order  not  to  annoy 
him  with  her  tears. 

204 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

EVERAL  days  later  Vyesovshchikov  came 
in,  as  shabby,  untidy,  and  disgruntled  as 
ever. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  who  killed  Isay  ?  " 
He  stopped  in  his  clumsy  pacing  of  the 
room  to  turn  to  Pavel. 

"  No !  "  Pavel  answered  briefly. 

"  There  you  got  a  man  who  wasn't  squeamish  about 
the  job !  And  I'd  always  been  preparing  to  do  it  myself. 
It  was  my  job — just  the  thing  for  me !  " 

'*  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Nikolay,"  Pavel  said  in  a 
friendly  manner. 

**  Now,  really,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  inter- 
posed the  mother  kindly.  "  You  have  a  soft  heart,  and 
yet  you  keep  barking  like  a  vicious  dog.  What  do  you 
go  on  that  way  for  ?  " 

At  this  moment  she  was  actually  pleased  to  see  Niko- 
lay. Even  his  pockmarked  face  looked  more  agreeable 
to  her.    She  pitied  him  as  never  before. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  fit  for  anything  but  jobs  like  that ! " 
said  Nikolay  dully,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  I  keep 
thinking,  and  thinking  where  my  place  in  the  world  is. 
There  is  no  place  for  me!  The  people  require  to  be 
spoken  to,  and  I  cannot.  I  see  everything ;  I  feel  all  the 
people's  wrongs ;  but  I  cannot  express  myself :  I  have  a 
dumb  soul."  He  went  over  to  Pavel  with  drooping  head ; 
and  scraping  his  fingers  on  the  table,  he  said  plaintively, 

205 


MOTHER 

and  so  unlike  himself,  childishly,  sadly :  "  Give  me  some 
hard  work  to  do,  comrade.  I  can't  live  this  life  any 
longer.  It's  so  senseless,  so  useless.  You  are  all  working 
in  the  movement,  and  I  see  that  it  is  growing,  and  I'm 
outside  of  it  all.  I  haul  boards  and  beams.  Is  it  possible 
to  live  for  the  sake  of  hauling  timber?  Give  me  some 
hard  work." 

Pavel  clasped  his  hand,  pulling  him  toward  himself. 

"  We  will !  " 

From  behind  the  curtains  resounded  the  Little  Rus- 
sian's voice: 

*'  Nikolay,  I'll  teach  you  typesetting,  and  you'll  work 
as  a  compositor  for  us.    Yes  ?  " 

Nikolay  went  over  to  him  and  said : 

"  If  you'll  teach  me  that,  I'll  give  you  my  knife." 

"  To  the  devil  with  your  knife !  "  exclaimed  the  Little 
Russian  and  burst  out  laughing. 

*'  It's  a  good  knife,"  Nikolay  insisted.  Pavel  laughed, 
too. 

Vyesovshchikov  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
and  asked: 

"Are  you  laughing  at  me?" 

"  Of  course,"  replied  the  Little  Russian,  jumping  out 
of  bed.  "I'll  tell  you  what!  Let's  take  a  walk  in  the 
fields !  The  night  is  fine ;  there's  bright  moonshine. 
Let's  go!" 

"  All  right,"  said  Pavel. 

"  And  I'll  go  with  you,  too !  "  declared  Nikolay.  "  I 
like  to  hear  you  laugh,  Little  Russian." 

"  And  I  like  to  hear  you  promise  presents,"  answered 
the  Little  Russian,  smiling. 

While  Audrey  was  dressing  in  the  kitchen,  the  mother 
scolded  him: 

"  Dress  warmer !  You'll  get  sick."  And  when  they 
206 


MOTHER 

all  had  left,  she  watched  them  through  the  window ;  then 
looked  at  the  ikon,  and  said  softly :  "  God  help  them !  " 

She  turned  off  the  lamp  and  began  to  pray  alone  in 
the  moonlit  room. 

The  days  flew  by  in  such  rapid  succession  that  the 
mother  could  not  give  much  thought  to  the  first  of  May. 
Only  at  night,  when,  exhausted  by  the  noise  and  the 
exciting  bustle  of  the  day,  she  went  to  bed,  tired  and 
worn  out,  her  heart  would  begin  to  ache. 

"  Oh,  dear,  if  it  would  only  be  over  soon !  " 

At  dawn,  when  the  factory  whistle  blew,  the  son  and 
the  Little  Russian,  after  hastily  drinking  tea  and  snatch- 
ing a  bite,  would  go,  leaving  a  dozen  or  so  small  commis- 
sions for  the  mother.  The  whole  day  long  she  would 
move  around  like  a  squirrel  in  a  wheel,  cook  dinner,  and 
boil  lilac-colored  gelatin  and  glue  for  the  proclamations. 
Some  people  would  come,  leave  notes  with  her  to  deliver 
to  Pavel,  and  disappear,  infecting  her  with  their  ex- 
citement. 

The  leaflets  appealing  to  the  working  people  to  cele- 
brate the  first  of  May  flooded  the  village  and  the  factory. 
Every  night  they  were  posted  on  the  fences,  even  on  the 
doors  of  the  police  station ;  and  every  day  they  were  found 
in  the  factory.  In  the  mornings  the  police  would  go 
around,  swearing,  tearing  down  and  scraping  off  the 
lilac-covered  bills  from  the  fences.  At  noon,  however, 
these  bills  would  fly  over  the  streets  again,  rolling  to  the 
feet  of  the  passers-by.  Spies  were  sent  from  the  city  to 
stand  at  the  street  corners  and  carefully  scan  the  working 
people  on  their  gay  passages  from  and  to  the  factory  at 
dinner  time.  Everybody  was  pleased  to  see  the  impotence 
of  the  police,  and  even  the  elder  workingmen  would  smile 
at  one  another : 

207 


MOTHER 

"  Things  are  happening,  aren't  they?  " 

All  over,  people  would  cluster  into  groups  hotly  dis- 
cussing the  stirring  appeals.  Life  was  at  boiling  point. 
This  spring  it  held  more  of  interest  to  everybody,  it 
brought  forth  something  new  to  all;  for  some  it  was  a 
good  excuse  to  excite  themselves — they  could  pour  out 
their  malicious  oaths  on  the  agitators;  to  others,  it 
brought  perplexed  anxiety  as  well  as  hope;  to  others 
again,  the  minority,  an  acute  delight  in  the  consciousness 
of  being  the  power  that  set  the  village  astir. 

Pavel  and  Audrey  scarcely  ever  went  to  bed.  They 
came  home  just  before  the  morning  whistle  sounded, 
tired,  hoarse,  and  pale.  The  mother  knew  that  they  held 
meetings  in  the  woods  and  the  marsh ;  that  squads  of 
mounted  police  galloped  around  the  village,  that  spies 
were  crawling  all  over,  holding  up  and  searching  single 
workingmen,  dispersing  groups,  and  sometimes  making 
an  arrest.  She  understood  that  her  son  and  Audrey 
might  be  arrested  any  night.  Sometimes  she  thought 
that  this  would  be  the  best  thing  for  them. 

Strangely  enough,  the  investigation  of  the  murder  of 
Isay,  the  record  clerk,  suddenly  ceased.  For  two  days 
the  local  police  questioned  the  people  in  regard  to  the 
matter,  examining  about  ten  men  or  so,  and  finally  lost 
interest  in  the  affair. 

Marya  Korsunova,  in  a  chat  with  the  mother,  re- 
flected the  opinion  of  the  police,  with  whom  she  asso- 
ciated as  amicably  as  with  everybody: 

*'  How  is  it  possible  to  find  the  guilty  man?  That 
morning  some  hundred  people  met  Isay,  and  ninety  of 
them,  if  not  more,  might  have  given  him  the  blow.  Dur- 
ing these  eight  years  he  has  galled  everybody." 

The  Little  Russian  changed  considerably.  His  face 
became    hollow-cheeked ;    his    eyelids    got    heavy    and 

208 


MOTHMR 

drooped  over  his  round  eyes,  half  covering  them.  His 
smiles  were  wrung  from  him  unwillingly,  and  two  thin 
wrinkles  were  drawn  from  his  nostrils  to  the  corners  of 
his  lips.  He  talked  less  about  everyday  matters;  on  the 
other  hand,  he  was  more  frequently  enkindled  with  a 
passionate  fire;  and  he  intoxicated  his  hsteners  with  his 
ecstatic  words  about  the  future,  about  the  bright,  beauti- 
ful holiday,  when  they  would  celebrate  the  triumph  of 
freedom  and  reason.  Listening  to  his  words,  the  mother 
felt  that  he  had  gone  further  than  anybody  else  toward 
the  great,  glorious  day,  and  that  he  saw  the  joys  of  that 
future  more  vividly  than  the  rest.  When  the  investiga- 
tions of  Isay's  murder  ceased,  he  said  in  disgust  and 
smiling  sadly: 

"  It's  not  only  the  people  they  treat  like  trash,  but 
even  the  very  men  whom  they  set  on  the  people  Hke 
dogs.  They  have  no  concern  for  their  faithful  Judases, 
they  care  only  for  their  shekels — only  for  them."  And 
after  a  sullen  silence,  he  added:  "And  I  pity  that  man 
the  more  I  think  of  him.  I  didn't  intend  to  kill  him — 
didn't  want  to!" 

"  Enough,  Audrey,"  said  Pavel  severely. 

"  You  happened  to  knock  against  something  rotten, 
and  it  fell  to  pieces,"  added  the  mother  in  a  low  voice. 

"  You're  right — but  that's  no  consolation." 

He  often  spoke  in  this  way.  In  his  mouth  the  words 
assumed  a  peculiar,  universal  significance,  bitter  and 
corrosive. 

At  last,  it  was  the  first  of  May!  The  whistle  shrilled 
as  usual,  powerful  and  peremptory.  The  mother,  who 
hadn't  slept  a  minute  during  the  night,  jumped  out  of 
bed,  made  a  fire  In  the  samovar,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared the  evening  before,  and  was  about,  as  always,  to 
knock  at  the  door  of  her  son's  and  Audrey's  room,  when, 

209 


MOTHER 

with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she  recollected  the  day,  and 
went  to  seat  herself  at  the  window,  leaning  her  cheek 
on  her  hand. 

Clusters  of  light  clouds,  white  and  rosy,  sailed  swiftly 
across  the  pale  blue  sky,  like  huge  birds  frightened  by 
the  piercing  shriek  of  the  escaping  steam.  The  mother 
watched  the  clouds,  absorbed  in  herself.  Her  head  was 
heavy,  her  eyes  dry  and  inflamed  from  the  sleepless 
night.  A  strange  calm  possessed  her  breast,  her  heart 
was  beating  evenly,  and  her  mind  dwelt  on  only  common, 
everyday  things.  <.,-      ^ 

"  I  prepared  the  samovar  too  early;  it  will  boil  away. 
Let  them  sleep  longer  to-day;  they've  worn  themselves 
out,  both  of  them." 

A  cheerful  ray  of  sun  looked  into  the  room.  She  held 
her  hand  out  to  it,  and  with  the  other  gently  patted  the 
bright  young  beam,  smiling  kindly  and  thoughtfully. 
Then  she  rose,  removed  the  pipe  from  the  samovar, 
trying  not  to  make  a  noise,  washed  herself,  and  began 
to  pray,  crossing  herself  piously,  and  noiselessly  moving 
her  lips.  Her  face  was  radiant,  and  her  right  eyebrow 
kept  rising  gradually  and  suddenly  dropping. 

The  second  whistle  blew  more  softly  with  less  assur- 
ance, a  tremor  in  its  thick  and  mellow  sound.  It  seemed 
to  the  mother  that  the  whistle  lasted  longer  to-day  than 
ever.  The  clear,  musical  voice  of  the  Little  Russian 
sounded  in  the  room: 

**  Pavel,  do  you  hear?    They're  calling." 

The  mother  heard  the  patter  of  bare  feet  on  the  floor 
and  some  one  yawn  with  gusto. 

"  Tlie  samovar  is  ready,"  she  cried. 

"  We're  getting  up,"  Pavel  answered  merrily. 

"  The  sun  is  rising,"  said  the  Little  Russian.  "  The 
clouds  are  racing;  they're  out  of  place  to-day."    He  went 

210 


MOTHER 

into  the  kitchen  all  disheveled  but  jolly  after  his  sleep. 
"  Good  morning,  mother  dear;  how  did  you  sleep?  " 

The  mother  went  to  him  and  whispered : 

"  Andriusha,  keep  close  to  him." 

"  Certainly.  As  long  as  it  depends  on  us,  we'll  always 
stick  to  each  other,  you  may  be  sure." 

"What's  that  whispering  about?  "  Pavel  asked. 

"  Nothing.  She  told  me  to  wash  myself  better,  so 
the  girls  will  look  at  me,"  replied  the  Little  Russian, 
going  out  on  the  porch  to  wash  himself. 

"  *  Rise  up,  awake,  you  workingmen,' "  Pavel  sang 
softly. 

As  the  day  grew,  the  clouds  dispersed,  chased  by 
the  wind.  The  mother  got  the  dishes  ready  for  the  tea, 
shaking  her  head  over  the  thought  of  how  strange  it  was 
for  both  of  them  to  be  joking  and  smiling  all  the  time 
on  this  morning,  when  who  knew  what  would  befall 
them  in  the  afternoon.  Yet,  curiously  enough,  she  felt 
herself  calm,  almost  happy. 

They  sat  a  long  time  over  the  tea  to  while  away  the 
hours  of  expectation.  Pavel,  as  was  his  wont,  slowly 
and  scrupulously  mixed  the  sugar  in  the  glass  with  his 
spoon,  and  accurately  salted  his  favorite  crust  from  the 
end  of  the  loaf.  The  Little  Russian  moved  his  feet  under 
the  table — he  never  could  at  once  settle  his  feet  com- 
fortably— and  looked  at  the  rays  of  sunlight  playing  on 
the  wall  and  ceiling. 

"  When  I  was  a  youngster  of  ten  years,"  he  re- 
counted, "  I  wanted  to  catch  the  sun  in  a  glass.  So  I 
took  the  glass,  stole  to  the  wall,  and  bang!  I  cut  my 
hand  and  got  a  licking  to  boot.  After  the  licking  I  went 
out  in  the  yard  and  saw  the  sun  in  a  puddle.  So  I 
started  to  trample  the  mud  with  my  feet.  I  covered 
myself  with  mud,  and  got  another  drubbing.    What  was 

211 


MOTHER 

I  to  do?  I  screamed  to  the  sun:  '  It  doesn't  hurt  me, 
you  red  devil;  it  doesn't  hurt  me!'  and  stuck  out  my 
tongue  at  him.    And  I  felt  comforted." 

*' Why  did  the  sun  seem  red  to  you?"  Pavel  asked, 
laughing. 

"  There  was  a  blacksmith  opposite  our  house,  with 
fine  red  cheeks,  and  a  huge  red  beard.  I  thought  the 
sun  resembled  him." 

The  mother  lost  patience  and  said: 

"  You'd  better  talk  about  your  arrangements  for  the 
procession." 

"  Everything's  been  arranged,"  said  Pavel. 

"  No  use  talking  of  things  once  decided  upon.  It 
only  confuses  the  mind,"  the  Little  Russian  added.  "  If 
we  are  all  arrested,  Nikolay  Ivanovich  will  come  and  tell 
you  what  to  do.    He  will  help  you  in  every  way." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  mother  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Let's  go  out,"  said  Pavel  dreamily. 

"  No,  rather  stay  indoors,"  replied  Audrey.  "  No 
need  to  annoy  the  eyes  of  the  police  so  often.  They 
know  you  well  enough." 

Fedya  Mazin  came  running  in,  all  aglow,  with  red 
spots  on  his  cheeks,  quivering  with  youthful  joy.  His 
animation  dispelled  the  tedium  of  expectation  for  them. 

"  It's  begun!  "  he  reported.  "  The  people  are  all  out 
on  the  street,  their  faces  sharp  as  the  edge  of  an  ax. 
Vyesovshchikov,  the  Gusevs,  and  Samoylov  have  been 
standing  at  the  factory  gates  all  the  time,  and  have  been 
making  speeches.  Most  of  the  people  went  back  from 
the  factory,  and  returned  home.  Let's  go!  It's  just 
time!    It's  ten  o'clock  already." 

"  I'm  going!  "  said  Pavel  decidedly. 

"  You'll  see,"  Fedya  assured  them,  "  the  whole  fac- 
tory will  rise  up  after  dinner." 

212 


MOTHER 

And  he  hurried  away,  followed  by  the  quiet  words  of 
the  mother: 

"  Burning  like  a  wax  candle  in  the  wind." 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  kitchen  to  dress. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  mother?  " 

"  With  you,"  she  said. 

Audrey  looked  at  Pavel  pulling  his  mustache.  Pavel 
arranged  his  hair  with  a  quick  gesture,  and  went  to  his 
mother. 

*'  Mother,  I  will  not  tell  you  anything;  and  don't  you 
tell  me  anything,  either.     Right,  mother  ?  " 

"All  right,  all  right!  God  bless  you!"  she  mur- 
mured. 

When  she  went  out  and  heard  the  holiday  hum  of 
the  people's  voices — an  anxious  and  expectant  hum — 
when  she  saw  everywhere,  at  the  gates  and  windows, 
crowds  of  people  staring  at  Audrey  and  her  son,  a  blur 
quivered  before  her  eyes,  changes  from  a  transparent 
green  to  a  muddy  gray. 

People  greeted  them — there  was  something  peculiar 
in  their  greetings.  She  caught  whispered,  broken  re- 
marks : 

"  Here  they  are,  the  leaders!  " 

"  We  don't  know  who  the  leaders  are!  " 

"  Why,  I  didn't  say  anything  wrong." 

At  another  place  some  one  in  a  yard  shouted  ex- 
citedly : 

"  The  police  will  get  them,  and  that'll  be  the  end 
of  them!" 

"  What  if  they  do?  "  retorted  another  voice. 

Farther  on  a  crying  woman's  voice  leaped  frightened 
from  the  window  to  the  street: 

"  Consider!  Are  you  a  single  man,  are  you?  They 
are  bachelors  and  don't  care!  " 

213 


MOTHER 

When  they  passed  the  house  of  Zosimov,  the  man 
without  legs,  who  received  a  monthly  allowance  from 
the  factory  because  of  his  mutilation,  he  stuck  his  head 
through  the  window  and  cried  out : 

"  Pavel,  you  scoundrel,  they'll  wring  your  head  off 
for  your  doings,  you'll  see !  " 

The  mother  trembled  and  stopped.  The  exclamation 
aroused  in  her  a  sharp  sensation  of  anger.  She  looked 
up  at  the  thick,  bloated  face  of  the  cripple,  and  he  hid 
himself,  cursing.  Then  she  quickened  her  pace,  over- 
took her  son,  and  tried  not  to  fall  behind  again.  He 
and  Audrey  seemed  not  to  notice  anjrthing,  not  to  hear 
the  outcries  that  pursued  them.  They  moved  calmly, 
without  haste,  and  talked  loudly  about  commonplaces. 
They  were  stopped  by  Mironov,  a  modest,  elderly  man, 
respected  by  everybody  for  his  clean,  sober  life. 

*' Not  working  either,  Daniil  Ivanovich?"  Pavel 
asked. 

"  My  wife  is  going  to  be  confined.  Well,  and  such  an 
exciting  day,  too,"  Mironov  responded,  staring  fixedly 
at  the  comrades.    He  said  to  them  in  an  undertone: 

"  Boys,  I  hear  you're  going  to  make  an  awful  row — 
smash  the  superintendent's  windows." 

"  Why,  are  we  drunk?  "  exclaimed  Pavel. 

"  We  are  simply  going  to  march  along  the  streets 
with  flags,  and  sing  songs,"  said  the  Little  Russian. 
*'  You'll  have  a  chance  to  hear  our  songs.  They're  our 
confession  of  faith." 

'*  I  know  your  confession  of  faith,"  said  Mironov 
thoughtfully.  "  I  read  your  papers.  You,  Nilovna,"  he 
exclaimed,  smiling  at  the  mother  with  knowing  eyes, 
*'  are  you  going  to  revolt,  too  ?  " 

"  Well,  even  if  it's  only  before  death,  I  want  to  walk 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  truth." 

214 


MOTHER 

"I  declare!"  said  Mironov.  ''I  guess  they  were 
telling  the  truth  when  they  said  you  carried  forbidden 
books  to  the  factory." 

"  Who  said  so?  "  asked  Pavel. 

"  Oh,  people.    Well,  good-by!    Behave  yourselves!  " 

The  mother  laughed  softly ;  she  was  pleased  to  hear 
that  such  things  were  said  of  her.  Pavel  smilingly  turned 
to  her; 

"  Oh,  you'll  get  into  prison,  mother ! " 

"  I  don't  mind,"  she  murmured. 

The  sun  rose  higher,  pouring  warmth  into  the  brac- 
ing freshness  of  the  spring  day.  The  clouds  floated  more 
slowly,  their  shadows  grew  thinner  and  more  transpar- 
ent, and  crawled  gently  over  the  streets  and  roofs.  The 
bright  sunlight  seemed  to  clean  the  village,  to  wipe  the 
dust  and  dirt  from  the  walls  and  the  tedium  from 
the  faces.  Everything  assumed  a  more  cheerful  aspect; 
the  voices  sounded  louder,  drowning  the  far-off  rumble 
and  heavings  of  the  factory  machines. 

Again,  from  all  sides,  from  the  windows  and  the 
yards,  different  words  and  voices,  now  uneasy  and  ma- 
licious, now  thoughtful  and  gay,  found  their  way  to  the 
mother's  ears.  But  this  time  she  felt  a  desire  to  retort, 
to  thank,  to  explain,  to  participate  in  the  strangely  varie- 
gated life  of  the  day. 

Off  a  corner  of  the  main  thoroughfare,  in  a  narrow 
by-street,  a  crowd  of  about  a  hundred  people  had  gath- 
ered, and  from  its  depths  resounded  Vyesovshchikov's 
voice : 

**  They  squeeze  our  blood  like  juice  from  huckle- 
berries." His  words  fell  like  hammer  blows  on  the 
people. 

"  That's  true !  "  the  resonant  cry  rang  out  simultane- 
ously from  a  number  of  throats. 

215 


MOTHER 

"  The  boy  is  doing  his  best,"  said  the  Little  Russian. 
"  ril  go  help  him."  He  bent  low  and  before  Pavel  had 
time  to  stop  him  he  twisted  his  tall,  flexible  body  into 
the  crowd  like  a  corkscrew  into  a  cork,  and  soon  his 
singing  voice  rang  out: 

"Comrades!  They  say  there  are  various  races  on 
the  earth — Jews  and  Germans,  English  and  Tartars.  But 
I  don't  believe  it.  There  are  only  two  nations,  two  irrec- 
oncilable tribes — the  rich  and  the  poor.  People  dress 
differently  and  speak  differently;  but  look  at  the  rich 
Frenchman,  the  rich  German,  or  the  rich  Englishman, 
you'll  see  that  they  are  all  Tartars  in  the  way  they  treat 
their  workingman — a  plague  on  them !  " 

A  laugh  broke  out  in  the  crowd. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  we  can  see  the  French  working- 
men,  the  Tartar  workingmen,  the  Turkish  workingmen, 
all  lead  the  same  dog's  life,  as  we — we,  the  Russian 
workingmen." 

Alore  and  more  people  joined  the  crowd;  one  after 
the  other  they  thronged  into  the  by-street,  silent,  step- 
ping on  tiptoe,  and  craning  their  necks.  Audrey  raised 
his  voice : 

"  The  workingmen  of  foreign  countries  have  already 
learned  this  simple  truth,  and  to-day,  on  this  bright  first 
of  May,  the  foreign  working  people  fraternize  with  one 
another.  They  quit  their  work,  and  go  out  into  the 
streets  to  look  at  themselves,  to  take  stock  of  their  im- 
mense power.  On  this  day,  the  workingmen  out  there 
throb  with  one  heart;  for  all  hearts  are  lighted  with  the 
consciousness  of  the  might  of  the  working  people;  all 
hearts  beat  with  comradeship,  each  and  every  one  of 
them  is  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  in  the  war  for  the  hap- 
piness of  all,  for  freedom  and  truth  to  all — comrades !  " 

"The  poHce!"  some  one  shouted. 
2l6 


CHAPTER   XIX 

ROM  the  main  street  four  mounted  police- 
men  flourishing  their  knouts  came  riding 
into  the  by-street  directly  at  the  crowd. 
"  Disperse !  " 

"  What  sort  of  talking  is  going  on  ?  " 
"  Who's  speaking?  " 

The  people  scowled,  giving  way  to  the  horses  un- 
willingly. Some  climbed  up  on  fences;  raillery  was 
heard  here  and  there. 

"  They  put  pigs  on  horses ;  they  grunt :  '  Here  we  are, 
leaders,  too ! ' "  resounded  a  sonorous,  provoking  voice. 
The  Little  Russian  was  left  alone  in  the  middle  of 
the  street ;  two  horses  shaking  their  manes  pressed  at 
him.  He  stepped  aside,  and  at  the  same  time  the  mother 
grasped  his  hand,  pulling  him  away  grumbling: 

"  You  promised  to  stick  to  Pasha;  and  here  you  are 

running  up  against  the  edge  of  a  knife  all  by  yourself." 

"  I  plead  guilty,"  said  the  Little  Russian,  smiling  at 

Pavel.    "  Ugh!    What  a  force  of  police  there  is  in  the 

world!" 

"  All  right,"  murmured  the  mother. 
An  alarming,  crushing  exhaustion   came  over  her. 
It  rose  from  within  her  and  made  her  dizzy.    There  was 
a  strange  alternation  of  sadness  and  joy  in  her  heart. 
She  wished  the  afternoon  whistle  would  sound. 

They  reached  the   square  where  the  church  stood. 
217 


MOTHER 

Around  the  church  within  the  paHng  a  thick  crowd  was 
sitting  and  standing.  There  were  some  five  hundred 
gay  youth  and  bustHng  women  with  children  darting 
around  the  groups  Hke  butterflies.  The  crowd  swung 
from  side  to  side.  The  people  raised  their  heads  and 
looked  into  the  distance  in  different  directions,  waiting 
impatiently. 

"Mitenka!"  softly  vibrated  a  woman's  voice. 
"  Have  pity  on  yourself !  " 

''Stop!"  rang  out  the  response. 

And  the  grave  Sizov  spoke  calmly,  persuasively: 

"  No,  we  mustn't  abandon  our  children.  They  have 
grown  wiser  than  ourselves;  they  live  more  boldly.  Who 
saved  our  cent  for  the  marshes?  They  did.  We  must 
remember  that.  For  doing  it  they  were  dragged  to 
prison;  but  we  derived  the  benefit.  The  benefit  was  for 
all." 

The  whistle  blew,  drowning  the  talk  of  the  crowd. 
The  people  started.  Those  sitting  rose  to  their  feet. 
For  a  moment  the  silence  of  death  prevailed;  all  became 
watchful,  and  many  faces  grew  pale. 

"Comrades!"  resounded  Pavel's  voice,  ringing  and 
firm. 

A  dry,  hot  haze  burned  the  mother's  eyes,  and  with 
a  single  movement  of  her  body,  suddenly  strengthened, 
she  stood  behind  her  son.  All  turned  toward  Pavel,  and 
drew  up  to  him,  like  iron  filings  attracted  by  a  magnet. 

"  Brothers!  The  hour  has  come  to  give  up  this  life 
of  ours,  this  life  of  greed,  hatred,  and  darkness,  this  life 
of  violence  and  falsehood,  this  life  where  there  is  no 
place  for  us,  where  we  are  no  human  beings." 

He  stopped,  and  everybody  maintained  silence,  mov- 
ing still  closer  to  him.  The  mother  stared  at  her  son. 
She  saw  only  his  eyes,  his  proud,  brave,  burning  eyes. 

2l8 


MOTHER 

"Comrades!  We  have  decided  to  declare  openly 
who  we  are;  we  raise  our  banner  to-day,  the  banner  of 
reason,  of  truth,  of  Hberty!    And  now  I  raise  it!  " 

A  flag  pole,  white  and  slender,  flashed  in  the  air,  bent 
down,  cleaving  the  crowd.  For  a  moment  it  was  lost 
from  sight;  then  over  the  uplifted  faces  the  broad  canvas 
of  the  working  people's  flag  spread  its  wings  like  a  red 
bird. 

Pavel  raised  his  hand — the  pole  swung,  and  a  dozen 
hands  caught  the  smooth  white  rod.  Among  them  was 
the  mother's  hand. 

"  Long  live  the  working  people!  "  he  shouted. 

Hundreds  of  voices  responded  to  his  sonorous  call. 

**  Long  live  the  Social  Democratic  Workingmen's 
Party,  our  party,  comrades,  our  spiritual  mother." 

The  crowd  seethed  and  hummed.  Those  who  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  the  flag  squeezed  their  way  up  to  it. 
Mazin,  Samoylov,  and  the  Gusevs  stood  close  at  Pavel's 
side.  Nikolay  with  bent  head  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crowd.  Some  other  people  unknown  to  the  mother, 
young  and  with  burning  eyes,  jostled  her. 

"  Long  live  the  working  people  of  all  countries  I " 
shouted  Pavel. 

And  ever  increasing  in  force  and  joy,  a  thousand- 
mouthed  echo  responded  in  a  soul-stirring  acclaim. 

The  mother  clasped  Pavel's  hand,  and  somebody 
else's,  too.  She  was  breathless  with  tears,  yet  refrained 
from  shedding  them.  Her  legs  trembled,  and  with  quiv- 
ering lips  she  cried: 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boys,  that's  true.  There  you  are 
now '* 

A  broad  smile  spread  over  Nikolay's  pockmarked 
face ;  he  stared  at  the  flag  and,  stretching  his  hand  to- 
ward it,  roared  out  something;  then  caught  the  mother 
15  219 


MOTHER 

around  the  neck  with  the  same  hand,  kissed  her,  and 
laughed. 

"  Comrades !  "  sang  out  the  Little  Russian,  subduing 
the  noise  of  the  crowd  with  his  mellow  voice.  "  Com- 
rades! We  have  now  started  a  holy  procession  in  the 
name  of  the  new  God,  the  God  of  Truth  and  Light,  the 
God  of  Reason  and  Goodness.  We  march  in  this  holy 
procession,  comrades,  over  a  long  and  hard  road.  Our 
goal  is  far,  far  away,  and  the  crown  of  thorns  is  near! 
Those  who  don't  believe  in  the  might  of  truth,  who 
have  not  the  courage  to  stand  up  for  it  even  unto  death, 
who  do  not  believe  in  themselves  and  are  afraid  of  suf- 
fering— such  of  you,  step  aside!  We  call  upon  those 
only  who  believe  in  our  triumph.  Those  who  cannot  see 
our  goal,  let  them  not  walk  with  us;  only  misery  is  in 
store  for  them!  Fall  into  line,  comrades!  Long  live 
the  first  of  May,  the  holiday  of  freemen!  " 

The  crowd  drew  closer.  Pavel  waved  the  flag.  It 
spread  out  in  the  air  and  sailed  forward,  sunlit,  smiling, 
red,  and  glowing. 

"  Let  us  renounce  the  old  world!  "  resounded  Fedya 
Mazin's  ringing  voice;  and  scores  of  voices  took  up  the 
cry.    It  floated  as  on  a  mighty  wave. 

''  Let  us  shake  its  dust  from  our  feet." 

The  mother  marched  behind  Mazin  with  a  smile  on 
her  dry  lips,  and  looked  over  his  head  at  her  son  and 
the  flag.  Everywhere,  around  her,  was  the  sparkle  of 
fresh  young  cheerful  faces,  the  glimmer  of  many-col- 
ored eyes;  and  at  the  head  of  all — her  son  and  Andrey. 
She  heard  their  voices,  Audrey's,  soft  and  humid, 
mingled  in  friendly  accord  with  the  heavy  bass  of  her 
son: 

"  Rise  up,  awake,  you  workingmen! 
On,  on,  to  war,  you  hungry  hosts! ' 
220 


MOTHER 

Men  ran  toward  the  red  flag,  raising  a  clamor;  then 
joining  the  others,  they  marched  along,  their  shouts 
lost  in  the  broad  sounds  of  the  song  of  the  revolution. 

The  mother  had  heard  that  song  before.  It  had 
often  betn  sung  in  a  subdued  tone;  and  the  Little  Rus- 
sian had  often  whistled  it.  But  now  she  seemed  for  the 
first  time  to  hear  this  appeal  to  unite  in  the  struggle. 

"  We  march  to  join  our  suffering  mates.  " 

The  song  flowed  on,  embracing  the  people. 

Some  one's  face,  alarmed  yet  joyous,  moved  along 
beside  the  mother's,  and  a  trembling  voice  spoke,  sob- 
bing: 

"  Mityal    Where  are  you  going?  " 

The  mother  interfered  without  stopping: 

"Let  him  go!  Don't  be  alarmed!  Don't  fear!  I 
myself  was  afraid  at  first,  too.  Mine  is  right  at  the  head 
— he  who  bears  the  standard — that's  my  son!  " 

"Murderers!  Where  are  you  going?  There  are 
soldiers  over  there!"  And  suddenly  clasping  the 
mother's  hand  in  her  bony  hands,  the  tall,  thin  woman 
exclaimed:  "My  dear!  How  they  sing!  Oh,  the  sec- 
tarians !    And  Mitya  is  singing !  " 

"  Don't  be  troubled!  "  murmured  the  mother.  "  It's 
a  sacred  thing.  Think  of  it!  Christ  would  not  have 
been,  either,  if  men  hadn't  perished  for  his  sake." 

This  thought  had  flashed  across  the  mother's  mind 
all  of  a  sudden  and  struck  her  by  its  simple,  clear  truth. 
She  stared  at  the  woman,  who  held  her  hand  firmly  in 
her  clasp,  and  repeated,  smiHng: 

"  Christ  would  not  have  been,  either,  if  men  hadn't 
suflfered  for  his  sake." 

Sizov  appeared  at  her  side.  He  took  off  his  hat  and 
waving  it  to  the  measure  of  the  song,  said : 

221 


MOTHER 

"  They're  marching  openly,  eh,  mother?  And  com- 
posed a  song,  too!    What  a  song,  mother,  eh?" 

"  The  Czar  for  the  army  soldiers  must  have, 
Then  give  him  your  sons " 

"  They're  not  afraid  of  anything,"  said  Sizov.  "  And 
my  son  is  in  the  grave.  The  factory  crushed  him  to 
death,  yes!  " 

The  mother's  heart  beat  rapidly,  and  she  began  to 
lag  behind.  She  was  soon  pushed  aside  hard  against 
a  fence,  and  the  close-packed  crowd  went  streaming 
past  her.  She  saw  that  there  were  many  people,  and  she 
was  pleased. 

"  Rise  up,  awake,  you  workingmenl  " 

It  seemed  as  if  the  blare  of  a  mighty  brass  trumpet 
were  rousing  men  and  stirring  in  some  hearts  the  wil- 
lingness to  fight,  in  other  hearts  a  vague  joy,  a  premoni- 
tion of  something  new,  and  a  burning  curiosity;  in  still 
others  a  confused  tremor  of  hope  and  curiosity.  The 
song  was  an  outlet,  too,  for  the  stinging  bitterness 
accumulated  during  years. 

The  people  looked  ahead,  where  the  red  banner  was 
swinging  and  streaming  in  -the  air.  All  were  saying 
something  and  shouting;  but  the  individual  voice  was 
lost  in  the  song — the  new  song,  in  which  the  old  note 
of  mournful  meditation  was  absent.  It  was  not  the  utter- 
ance of  a  soul  wandering  in  solitude  along  the  dark 
paths  of  melancholy  perplexity,  of  a  soul  beaten  down 
by  want,  burdened  with  fear,  deprived  of  individuality, 
and  colorless.  It  breathed  no  sighs  of  a  strength  hun- 
gering for  space;  it  shouted  no  provoking  cries  of  irri- 
tated courage  ready  to  crush  both  the  good  and  the  bad 
indiscriminately.     It  did  not  voice  the  elemental  instinct 

222 


MOTHER 

of  the  animal  to  snatch  freedom  for  freedom's  sake, 
nor  the  feeling  of  wrong  or  vengeance  <  apable  of  de- 
stroying everything  and  powerless  to  builc  up  anything. 
In  this  song  there  was  nothing  from  the  old,  slavish 
world.  It  floated  along  directly,  evenly;  it  proclaimed 
an  iron  virility,  a  calm  threat.  Simple,  clear,  it  swept 
the  people  after  it  along  an  endless  path  leading  to  the 
far  distant  future;  and  it  spoke  frankly  about  the  hard- 
ships of  the  way.  In  its  steady  fire  a  heavy  clod  seemed 
to  burn  and  melt — the  sufferings  they  had  endured,  the 
dark  load  of  their  habitual  feelings,  their  cursed  dread 
of  what  was  coming. 

'*  They  all  join  in ! "  somebody  roared  exultantly. 
"  Well  done,  boys !  " 

Apparently  the  man  felt  something  vast,  to  which  he 
could  not  give  expression  in  ordinary  words,  so  he  uttered 
a  stiff  oath.  Yet  the  malice,  the  blind  dark  malice  of  a 
slave  also  streamed  hotly  through  his  teeth.  Disturbed 
by  the  light  shed  upon  it,  it  hissed  like  a  snake,  writhing 
in  venomous  words. 

"  Heretics !  "  a  man  with  a  broken  voice  shouted  from 
a  window,  shaking  his  fist  threateningly. 

A  piercing  scream  importunately  bored  into  the 
mother's  ears — "  Rioting  against  the  emperor,  against 
his  Majesty  the  Czar?    No,  no?" 

Agitated  people  flashed  quickly  past  her,  a  dark  lava 
stream  of  men  and  women,  carried  along  by  this  song, 
which  cleared  every  obstacle  out  of  its  path. 

Growing  in  the  mother's  breast  was  the  mighty  desire 
to  shout  to  the  crowd : 

"  Oh,  my  dear  people !  " 

There,  far  away  from  her,  was  the  red  banner — she 
saw  her  son  without  seeing  him — his  bronzed  forehead, 
his  eyes  burning  with  the  bright  fire  of  faith.    Now  she 

223 


MOTHER 

was  in  the  tail  of  t'^e  crowd  among  the  people  who 
walked  without  hun  v^ing,  indifferent,  looking  ahead 
with  the  cold  curiosit>  of  spectators  who  know  before- 
hand how  the  show  will  end.  They  spoke  softly  with 
confidence. 

"  One  company  of  infantry  is  near  the  school,  and 
the  other  near  the  factory." 

**  The  governor  has  come." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"  I  saw  him  myself.    He's  here." 

Some  one  swore  jovially  and  said : 

*'  They've  begun  to  fear  our  fellows,  after  all,  haven't 
they?    The  soldiers  have  come  and  the  governor " 

"  Dear  boys !  "  throbbed  in  the  breast  of  the  mother. 
But  the  words  around  her  sounded  dead  and  cold.  She 
hastened  her  steps  to  get  away  from  these  people,  and  it 
was  not  difficult  for  her  to  outstrip  their  lurching  gait. 

Suddenly  the  head  of  the  crowd,  as  it  were,  bumped 
against  something;  its  body  swung  backward  with  an 
alarming,  low  hum.  The  song  trembled,  then  flowed  on 
more  rapidly  and  louder;  but  again  the  dense  wave  of 
sounds  hesitated  in  its  forward  course.  Voices  fell  out 
of  the  chorus  one  after  the  other.  Here  and  there  a  voice 
was  raised  in  the  effort  to  bring  the  song  to  its  previous 
height,  to  push  it  forward : 

"Rise  up,  awake,  you  workingmen! 
On,  on,  to  war,  you  hungry  hosts!  " 

Though  she  saw  nothing  and  was  ignorant  of  what 
was  happening  there  in  front,  the  mother  divined,  and 
elbowed  her  way  rapidly  through  the  crowd. 


224 


CHAPTER   XX 

OMRADES  ! "  the  voice  of  Pavel  was  heard. 
''  Soldiers  are  people  the  same  as  ourselves. 
They  will  not  strike  us !  Why  should  they 
beat  us  ?  Because  we  bear  the  truth  neces- 
sary for  all?  This  our  truth  is  necessary 
to  them,  too.  Just  now  they  do  not  understand  this ;  but 
the  time  is  nearing  when  they  will  rise  with  us,  when 
they  will  march,  not  under  the  banner  of  robbers  and 
murderers,  the  banner  which  the  liars  and  beasts  order 
them  to  call  the  banner  of  glory  and  honor,  but  under 
our  banner  of  freedom  and  goodness !  We  ought  to  go 
forward  so  that  they  should  understand  our  truth  the 
sooner.     Forward,  comrades !     Ever  forward !  " 

Pavel's  voice  sounded  firm,  the  words  rang  in  the  air 
distinctly.  But  the  crowd  fell  asunder;  one  after  the 
other  the  people  dropped  off  to  the  right  or  to  the  left, 
going  toward  their  homes,  or  leaning  against  the  fences. 
Now  the  crowd  had  the  shape  of  a  wedge,  and  its  point 
was  Pavel,  over  whose  head  the  banner  of  the  laboring 
people  was  burning  red. 

At  the  end  of  the  street,  closing  the  exit  to  the  square, 
the  mother  saw  a  low,  gray  wall  of  men,  one  just  like 
the  other,  without  faces.  On  the  shoulder  of  each  a 
bayonet  was  smiling  its  thin,  chill  smile;  and  from  this 
entire  immobile  wall  a  cold  gust  blew  down  on  the  work- 
men, striking  the  breast  of  the  mother  and  penetrating 
her  heart. 

225 


MOTHER 

She  forced  her  way  into  the  crowd  among  people  fa- 
miliar to  her,  and,  as  it  were,  leaned  on  them. 

She  pressed  closely  against  a  tall,  lame  man  with  a 
clean-shaven  face.  In  order  to  look  at  her,  he  had  to  turn 
his  head  stiffly. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?    Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  The  mother  of  Pavel  Vlasov,"  she  answered,  her 
knees  trembling  beneath  her,  her  lower  lip  involuntarily 
dropping. 

''  Ha-ha !  "  said  the  lame  man.    "  Very  well !  " 

"  Comrades !  "  Pavel  cried.  "  Onward  all  your  lives. 
There  is  no  other  way  for  us !    Sing !  " 

The  atmosphere  grew  tense.  The  flag  rose  and  rocked 
and  waved  over  the  heads  of  the  people,  gliding  toward 
the  gray  wall  of  soldiers.  The  mother  trembled.  She 
closed  her  eyes,  and  cried :  **  Oh — oh !  " 

None  but  Pavel,  Andrey,  Samoylov,  and  Mazin  ad- 
vanced beyond  the  crowd. 

The  limpid  voice  of  Fedya  Mazin  slowly  quivered 
in  the  air. 

"  *  In  mortal  strife — *  "  he  began  the  song. 

" '  You  victims  fell — ' "  answered  thick,  subdued 
voices.  The  words  dropped  in  two  heavy  sighs.  People 
stepped  forward,  each  footfall  audible.  A  new  song,  de- 
termined and  resolute,  burst  out: 

"  You  yielded  up  your  lives  for  them." 

Fedya's  voice  wreathed  and  curled  like  a  bright 
ribbon. 

"  A-ha-ha-ha !  **  some  one  exclaimed  derisively. 
"  They've  struck  up  a  funeral  song,  the  dirty  dogs ! " 

"  Beat  him !  "  came  the  angry  response. 

The  mother  clasped  her  hands  to  her  breast,  looked 
about  and  saw  that  the  crowd,  before  so  dense,  was  now 

226 


MOTHMR 

standing  irresolute,  watching  the  comrades  walk  away 
from  them  with  the  banner,  followed  by  about  a  dozen 
people,  one  of  whom,  however,  at  every  forward  move, 
jumped  aside  as  if  the  path  in  the  middle  of  the  street 
were  red  hot  and  burned  his  soles. 

"  The  tyranny  will  fall — "  sounded  the  prophetic  song 
from  the  lips  of  Fedya. 

"  And  the  people  will  rise ! "  the  chorus  of  powerful 
voices  seconded  confidently  and  menacingly. 

But  the  harmonious  flow  of  the  song  was  broken  by 
the  quiet  words : 

"  He  is  giving  orders." 

"  Charge  bayonets ! "  came  the  piercing  order  from 
the  front. 

The  bayonets  curved  in  the  air,  and  glittered  sharply ; 
then  fell  and  stretched  out  to  confront  the  banner. 

"Ma-arch!" 

"  They're  coming !  "  said  the  lame  man,  and  thrusting 
his  hands  into  his  pockets  made  a  long  step  to  one  side. 

The  mother,  without  blinking,  looked  on.  The  gray 
line  of  soldiers  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  spread  out  over  the 
entire  width  of  the  street.  It  moved  on  evenly,  coolly, 
carrying  in  front  of  itself  a  fine-toothed  comb  of  spark- 
ling bayonets.  Then  it  came  to  a  stand.  The  mother 
took  long  steps  to  get  nearer  to  her  son.  She  saw  how 
Audrey  strode  ahead  of  Pavel  and  fenced  him  off  with 
his  long  body.  "  Get  alongside  of  me !  "  Pavel  shouted 
sharply.  Audrey  was  singing,  his  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back,  his  head  uplifted.  Pavel  pushed  him  with  his 
shoulder,  and  again  cried : 

"  At  my  side !    Let  the  banner  be  in  front !  " 

"  Disperse ! "  called  a  little  officer  in  a  thin  voice, 
brandishing  a  white  saber.  He  lifted  his  feet  high,  and 
without  bending  his  knees  struck  his  soles  on  the  ground 

227 


MOTHER 

irritably.     The  high  polish  on  his  boots  caught  the  eyes 
of  the  mother. 

To  one  side  and  somewhat  behind  him  walked  a  tall, 
clean-shaven  man,  with  a  thick,  gray  mustache.  He  wore 
a  long  gray  overcoat  with  a  red  underlining,  and  yellow 
stripes  on  his  trousers.  His  gait  was  heavy,  and  like  the 
Little  Russian,  he  clasped  his  hands  behind  his  back.  He 
regarded  Pavel,  raising  his  thick  gray  eyebrows. 

The  mother  seemed  to  be  looking  into  infinity.  At 
each  breath  her  breast  was  ready  to  burst  with  a  loud 
cry.  It  choked  her,  but  for  some  reason  she  restrained 
it.  Her  hands  clutched  at  her  bosom.  She  staggered 
from  repeated  thrusts.  She  walked  onward  without 
thought,  almost  without  consciousness.  She  felt  that 
behind  her  the  crowd  was  getting  thinner;  a  cold  wind 
had  blown  on  them  and  scattered  them  like  autumn 
leaves. 

The  men  around  the  red  banner  moved  closer  and 
closer  together.  The  faces  of  the  soldiers  were  clearly 
seen  across  the  entire  width  of  the  street,  monstrously 
flattened,  stretched  out  in  a  dirty  yellowish  band.  In 
it  were  unevenly  set  variously  colored  eyes,  and  in  front 
the  sharp  bayonets  glittered  crudely.  Directed  against 
the  breasts  of  the  people,  although  not  yet  touching  them, 
they  drove  them  apart,  pushing  one  man  after  the  other 
away  from  the  crowd  and  breaking  it  up. 

Behind  her  the  mother  heard  the  trampling  noise  of 
those  who  were  running  away.  Suppressed,  excited 
voices  cried: 

"  Disperse,  boys !  " 

"  Vlasov,  run  !  " 

"  Back,  Pavel !  " 

"  Drop  the  banner,  Pavel ! "  Vyesovshchikov  said 
glumly.    '*  Give  it  to  me  !    Fll  hide  it !  " 

228 


MOTHER 

He  grabbed  the  pole  with  his  hand;  the  flag  rocked 
backward. 

'*  Let  go !  "  thundered  Pavel. 

Nikolay  drew  his  hand  back  as  if  it  had  been  burned. 
The  song  died  away.  Some  persons  crowded  solidly 
around  Pavel ;  but  he  cut  through  to  the  front.  A  sud- 
den silence  fell. 

Around  the  banner  some  twenty  men  were  grouped, 
not  more,  but  they  stood  firmly.  The  mother  felt  drawn 
to  them  by  awe  and  by  a  confused  desire  to  say  something 
to  them. 

"  Take  this  thing  away  from  him,  lieutenant."  The 
even  voice  of  the  tall  old  man  was  heard.  He  pointed 
to  the  banner.  A  little  officer  jumped  up  to  Pavel, 
snatched  at  the  flag  pole,  and  shouted  shrilly: 

"Drop  it!" 

The  red  flag  trembled  in  the  air,  moving  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  then  rose  again.  The  little  officer  jumped 
back  and  sat  down.  Nikolay  darted  by  the  mother,  shak- 
ing his  outstretched  fist. 

"  Seize  them !  "  the  old  man  roared,  stamping  his 
feet.  A  few  soldiers  jumped  to  the  front,  one  of  them 
flourishing  the  butt  end  of  his  gun.  The  banner 
trembled,  dropped,  and  disappeared  in  a  gray  mass  of 
soldiers. 

"  Oh ! "  somebody  groaned  aloud.  And  the  mother 
yelled  like  a  wild  animal.  But  the  clear  voice  of  Pavel 
answered  her  from  out  of  the  crowd  of  soldiers : 

"  Good-by,  mother !     Good-by,  dear !  " 

"  He's  alive  !  He  remembered !  "  were  the  two  strokes 
at  the  mother's  heart. 

"  Good-by,  mother  dear !  "  came  from  Andrey. 

Waving  her  hands,  she  raised  herself  on  tiptoe,  and 
tried  to  see  them.    There  was  the  round  face  of  Andrey 

229 


MOTHER 

above  the  soldiers'  heads.     He  was  smiHng  and  bowing 
to  her. 

"Oh,  my  dear  ones!  Andriusha!  Pasha!"  she 
shouted. 

''  Good-by,  comrades ! "  they  called  from  among  the 
soldiers. 

A  broken,  manifold  echo  responded  to  them.  It  re- 
sounded from  the  windows  and  the  roofs. 

The  mother  felt  some  one  pushing  her  breast. 
Through  the  mist  in  her  eyes  she  saw  the  little  officer. 
His  face  was  red  and  strained,  and  he  was  shouting  to 
her: 

*'  Clear  out  of  here,  old  woman !  " 

She  looked  down  on  him,  and  at  his  feet  saw  the  flag 
pole  broken  in  two  parts,  a  piece  of  red  cloth  on  one  of 
them.  She  bent  down  and  picked  it  up.  The  officer 
snatched  it  out  of  her  hands,  threw  it  aside,  and  shouted 
again,  stamping  his  feet: 

*'  Clear  out  of  here,  I  tell  you !  " 

A  song  sprang  up  and  floated  from  among  the 
soldiers : 

"Arise,  awake,  you  workingmen!  " 

Everything  was  whirling,  rocking,  trembling.  A 
thick,  alarming  noise,  resembling  the  dull  hum  of  tele- 
graph wires,  filled  the  air.  The  officer  jumped  back, 
screaming  angrily : 

"  Stop  the  singing,  Sergeant  Kraynov !  " 

The  mother  staggered  to  the  fragment  of  the  pole, 
which  he  had  thrown  down,  and  picked  it  up  again. 

"  Gag  them !  " 

The  song  became  confused,  trembled,  expired.  Some- 
body took  the  mother  by  the  shoulders,  turned  her 
around,  and  shoved  her  from  the  back. 

230 


MOTHMR 

"  Go,  go !    Clear  the  street !  "  shouted  the  officer. 

About  ten  paces  from  her,  the  mother  again  saw  a 
thick  crowd  of  people.  They  were  howling,  grumbling, 
whistling,  as  they  backed  down  the  street.  The  yards 
were  drawing  in  a  number  of  them. 

'*  Go,  you  devil ! "  a  young  soldier  with  a  big  mus- 
tache shouted  right  into  the  mother's  ear.  He  brushed 
against  her  and  shoved  her  onto  the  sidewalk.  She  moved 
away,  leaning  on  the  flag  pole.  She  went  quickly  and 
lightly,  but  her  legs  bent  under  her.  In  order  not  to  fall 
she  clung  to  walls  and  fences.  People  in  front  were 
falling  back  alongside  of  her,  and  behind  her  were  sol- 
diers, shouting :  "  Go,  go !  " 

The  soldiers  got  ahead  of  her ;  she  stopped  and  looked 
around.  Down  the  end  of  the  street  she  saw  them  again 
scattered  in  a  thin  chain,  blocking  the  entrance  to  the 
square,  which  was  empty.  Farther  down  were  more  gray 
figures  slowly  moving  against  the  people.  She  wanted 
to  go  back ;  but  uncalculatingly  went  forward  again,  and 
came  to  a  narrow,  empty  by-street  into  which  she  turned. 
She  stopped  again.  She  sighed  painfully,  and  listened. 
Somewhere  ahead  she  heard  the  hum  of  voices.  Lean- 
ing on  the  pole  she  resumed  her  walk.  Her  eyebrows 
moved  up  and  down,  and  she  suddenly  broke  into  a  sweat ; 
her  lips  quivered ;  she  waved  her  hands,  and  certain  words 
flashed  up  in  her  heart  like  sparks,  kindling  in  her  a 
strong,  stubborn  desire  to  speak  them,  to  shout  them. 

The  by-street  turned  abruptly  to  the  left ;  and  around 
the  corner  the  mother  saw  a  large,  dense  crowd  of  peo- 
ple.    Somebody's  voice  was  speaking  loudly  and  firmly: 

"They  don't  go  to  meet  the  bayonets  from  sheer 
audacity.     Remember  that !  " 

"  Just  look  at  them.  Soldiers  advance  against  them, 
and  they  stand  before  them  without  fear.     Y-yes !  " 

231 


MOTHER 

"  Think  of  Pasha  Vlasov !  " 

"  And  how  about  the  Little  Russian  ?  " 

"  Hands  behind  his  back  and  smiling,  the  devil !  " 

"  My  dear  ones !  My  people !  "  the  mother  shouted, 
pushing  into  the  crowd.  They  cleared  the  way  for  her 
respectfully.     Somebody  laughed: 

"  Look  at  her  with  the  flag  in  her  hand !  " 

"  Shut  up !  "  said  another  man  sternly. 

The  mother  with  a  broad  sweep  of  her  arms  cried 
out: 

"  Listen  for  the  sake  of  Christ !  You  are  all  dear 
people,  you  are  all  good  people.  Open  up  your  hearts. 
Look  around  without  fear,  without  terror.  Our  children 
are  going  into  the  world.  Our  children  are  going,  our 
blood  is  going  for  the  truth ;  with  honesty  in  their  hearts 
they  open  the  gates  of  the  new  road — a  straight,  wide 
road  for  all.  For  all  of  you,  for  the  sake  of  your  young 
ones,  they  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  sacred  cause. 
They  seek  the  sun  of  new  days  that  shall  always  be 
bright.  They  want  another  life,  the  life  of  truth  and 
justice,  of  goodness  for  all." 

Her  heart  was  rent  asunder,  her  breast  contracted, 
her  throat  was  hot  and  dry.  Deep  inside  of  her,  words 
were  being  born,  words  of  a  great,  all-embracing  love. 
They  burned  her  tongue,  moving  it  more  powerfully  and 
more  freely.  She  saw  that  the  people  were  listening  to 
her  words.  All  were  silent.  She  felt  that  they  were 
thinking  as  they  surrounded  her  closely;  and  the  desire 
grew  in  her,  now  a  clear  desire,  to  drive  these  people  to 
follow  her  son,  to  follow  Andrey,  to  follow  all  those  who 
had  fallen  into  the  soldiers'  hands,  all  those  who  were  left 
entirely  alone,  all  those  who  were  abandoned.  Looking 
at  the  sullen,  attentive  faces  around  her,  she  resumed  with 
soft  force : 

232 


MOTHER 

"  Our  children  are  going  in  the  world  toward  hap- 
piness. They  went  for  the  sake  of  all,  and  for  Christ's 
truth — against  all  with  which  our  malicious,  false,  ava- 
ricious ones  have  captured,  tied,  and  crushed  us.  My 
dear  ones — why  it  is  for  you  that  our  young  blood  rose 
— for  all  the  people,  for  all  the  world,  for  all  the  work- 
ingmen,  they  went!  Then  don't  go  away  from  them, 
don't  renounce,  don't  forsake  them,  don't  leave  your  chil- 
dren on  a  lonely  path — they  went  just  for  the  purpose 
of  showing  you  all  the  path  to  truth,  to  take  all  on  that 
path!  Pity  yourselves!  Love  them!  Understand  the 
children's  hearts.  Believe  your  sons'  hearts;  they  have 
brought  forth  the  truth;  it  burns  in  them;  they  perish 
for  it.    Believe  them !  " 

Her  voice  broke  down,  she  staggered,  her  strength 
gone.    Somebody  seized  her  under  the  arms. 

''  She  is  speaking  God's  words ! "  a  man  shouted 
hoarsely  and  excitedly.  "  God's  words,  good  people ! 
Listen  to  her !  " 

Another  man  said  in  pity  of  her : 

"  Look  how  she's  hurting  herself !  *' 

"  She's  not  hurting  herself,  but  hitting  us,  fools,  un- 
derstand that !  "  was  the  reproachful  reply. 

A  high-pitched,  quavering  voice  rose  up  over  the 
crowd : 

"  Oh,  people  of  the  true  faith !  My  Mitya,  pure  soul, 
what  has  he  done?  He  went  after  his  dear  comrades. 
She  speaks  truth— why  did  we  forsake  our  children? 
What  harm  have  they  done  us  ?  " 

The  mother  trembled  at  these  words  and  replied  with 
soft  tears. 

"  Go  home,  Nilovna !  Go,  mother !  You're  all  worn 
out,"  said  Sizov  loudly. 

He  was  pale,  his  disheveled  beard  shook.  Suddenly 
233 


MOTHER 

knitting  his  brows  he  threw  a  stern  glance  about  him  on 
all,  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  said  distinctly : 

*'  My  son  Matvey  was  crushed  in  the  factory.  You 
know  it!  But  were  he  alive,  I  myself  would  have  sent 
him  into  the  lines  of  those — along  with  them.  I  myself 
would  have  told  him :  *  Go  you,  too,  Matvey !  That's 
the  right  cause,  that's  the  honest  cause ! '  " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  a  sullen  silence  fell  on  all, 
in  the  powerful  grip  of  something  huge  and  new,  but 
something  that  no  longer  frightened  them.  Sizov  lifted 
his  hand,  shook  it,  and  continued: 

"  It's  an  old  man  who  is  speaking  to  you.  You  know 
me!  I've  been  working  here  thirty-nine  years,  and  I've 
been  alive  fifty-three  years.  To-day  they've  arrested  my 
nephew,  a  pure  and  intelligent  boy.  He,  too,  was  in  the 
front,  side  by  side  with  Vlasov;  right  at  the  banner." 
Sizov  made  a  motion  with  his  hand,  shrank  together,  and 
said  as  he  took  the  mother's  hand :  **  This  woman  spoke 
the  truth.  Our  children  want  to  live  honorably,  accord- 
ing to  reason,  and  we  have  abandoned  then ;  we  walked 
away,  yes !    Go,  Nilovna !  " 

"  My  dear  ones  1 "  she  said,  looking  at  them  all  with 
tearful  eyes.  '*  The  life  is  for  our  children  and  the  earth 
is  for  them." 

"  Go,  Nilovna,  take  this  staff  and  lean  upon  it !  "  said 
Sizov,  giving  her  the  fragment  of  the  flag  pole. 

All  looked  at  the  mother  with  sadness  and  respect. 
A  hum  of  sympathy  accompanied  her.  Sizov  silently  put 
the  people  out  of  her  way,  and  they  silently  moved  aside, 
obeying  a  blind  impulse  to  follow  her.  They  walked 
after  her  slowly,  exchanging  brief,  subdued  remarks  on 
the  way.  Arrived  at  the  gate  of  her  house,  she  turned 
to  them,  leaning  on  the  fragment  of  the  flag  pole,  and 
bowed  in  gratitude. 

234 


MOTHER 

"  Thank  you ! "  she  said  softly.  And  recalling  the 
thought  which  she  fancied  had  been  born  in  her  heart, 
she  said :  "  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  would  not  have  been, 
either,  if  people  had  not  perished  for  his  sake." 

The  crowd  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

She  bowed  to  the  people  again,  and  went  into  her 
house,  and  Sizov,  drooping  his  head,  went  in  with  her. 

The  people  stood  at  the  gates  and  talked.  Then  they 
began  to  depart  slowly  and  quietly. 


16 


PART    II 


CHAPTER   I 

HE  day  passed  in  a  motley  blur  of  recol- 
lections, in  a  depressing  state  of  exhaus- 
tion, which  tightly  clutched  at  the  mother's 
body  and  soul.  The  faces  of  the  young 
men  flashed  before  her  mental  vision,  the 
banner  blazed,  the  songs  clamored  at  her  ear,  the  little 
officer  skipped  about,  a  gray  stain  before  her  eyes,  and 
through  the  whirlwind  of  the  procession  she  saw  the 
gleam  of  Pavel's  bronzed  face  and  the  smiling  sky-blue 
eyes  of  Audrey. 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  sat  at  the  win- 
dow, looked  out  into  the  street,  and  walked  away  again 
with  lowered  eyebrows.  Every  now  and  then  she  started, 
and  looked  about  in  an  aimless  search  for  something. 
She  drank  water,  but  could  not  slake  her  thirst,  nor 
quench  the  smoldering  fire  of  anguish  and  injury  in  her 
bosom.  The  day  was  chopped  in  two.  It  began  full  of 
meaning  and  content,  but  now  it  dribbled  away  into  a 
dismal  waste,  which  stretched  before  her  endlessly.  The 
question  swung  to  and  fro  in  her  barren,  perplexed  mind : 
"What  now?" 

Korsunova  came  in.    Waving  her  hands,  she  shouted, 
wept,   and  went  into  raptures ;  stamped   her  feet,  sug- 
gested this  and  that,  made  promises,  and  threw  out  threats 
against  somebody.    All  this  failed  to  impress  the  mother. 
"  Aha ! "  she  heard  the  squeaking  voice  of  Marya. 
239 


MOTHER 

"  So  the  people  have  been  stirred  up !  At  last  the  whole 
factory  has  arisen !    All  have  arisen !  " 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  said  the  mother  in  a  low  voice,  shaking 
her  head.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  something  that  had 
already  fallen  into  the  past,  had  departed  from  her  along 
with  Andrey  and  Pavel.  She  was  unable  to  weep.  Her 
heart  was  dried  up,  her  lips,  too,  were  dry,  and  her  mouth 
was  parched.  Her  hands  shook,  and  a  cold,  fine  shiver 
ran  down  her  back,  setting  her  skin  aquiver. 

In  the  evening  the  gendarmes  came.  She  met  them 
without  surprise  and  without  fear.  They  entered  noisily, 
with  a  peculiarly  jaunty  air,  and  with  a  look  of  gayety 
and  satisfaction  in  their  faces.  The  yellow-faced  officer 
said,  displaying  his  teeth: 

"  Well,  how  are  you  ?  The  third  time  I  have  the 
honor,  eh  ?  " 

She  was  silent,  passing  her  dry  tongue  along  her  lips. 
The  officer  talked  a  great  deal,  delivering  a  homily  to 
her.  The  mother  realized  what  pleasure  he  derived  from 
his  words.  But  they  did  not  reach  her ;  they  did  not  dis- 
turb her;  they  were  like  the  insistent  chirp  of  a  cricket. 
It  was  only  when  he  said :  "  It's  your  own  fault,  little 
mother,  that  you  weren't  able  to  inspire  your  son  with 
reverence  for  God  and  the  Czar,"  that  she  answered  dully, 
standing  at  the  door  and  looking  at  him :  "  Yes,  our  chil- 
dren are  our  judges.  They  visit  just  punishment  upon 
us  for  abandoning  them  on  such  a  road." 

"  Wha-at  ?  "  shouted  the  officer.    ''  Louder ! " 

"  I  say,  the  children  are  our  judges,"  the  mother  re- 
peated with  a  sigh. 

He  said  something  quickly  and  angrily,  but  his  words 
buzzed  around  her  without  touching  her.  Marya  Kor- 
sunova  was  a  witness.  She  stood  beside  the  mother,  but 
did  not  look  at  her;  and  when  the  officer  turned  to  her 

240 


MOTHER 

with  a  question,  she  invariably  answered  with  a  hasty, 
low  bow :  "  I  don't  know,  your  Honor.  I  am  just  a  sim- 
ple, ignorant  woman.  I  make  my  living  by  peddling, 
stupid  as  I  am,  and  I  know  nothing." 

"  Shut  up,  then !  "  commanded  the  officer. 

She  was  ordered  to  search  Vlasova.  She  blinked  her 
eyes,  then  opened  them  wide  on  the  officer,  and  said  in 
fright : 

"  I  can't,  your  Honor !  " 

The  officer  stamped  his  feet  and  began  to  shout. 
Marya  lowered  her  eyes,  and  pleaded  with  the  mother 
softly : 

"Well,  what  can  be  done?  You  have  to  submit, 
Pelagueya  Nllovna." 

As  she  searched  and  felt  the  mother's  dress,  the  blood 
mounting  to  her  face,  she  murmured: 

"  Oh,  the  dogs !  " 

*'What  are  you  jabbering  about  there?"  the  officer 
cried  rudely,  looking  into  the  corner  where  she  was  mak- 
ing the  search. 

"  It's  about  women's  affairs,  your  Honor,"  mumbled 
Marya,  terrorized. 

On  his  order  to  sign  the  search  warrant  the  mother, 
with  unskilled  hand,  traced  on  the  paper  In  printed  shin- 
ing letters : 

"  Pelagueya  Nllovna,  widow  of  a  workingman.'* 

They  went  away,  and  the  mother  remained  standing 
at  the  window.  With  her  hands  folded  over  her  breast, 
she  gazed  into  vacancy  without  winking,  her  eyebrows 
raised.  Her  lips  were  compressed,  her  jaws  so  tightly 
set  that  her  teeth  began  to  pain  her.  The  oil  burned 
down  In  the  lamp,  the  light  flared  up  for  a  moment,  and 
then  went  out.  She  blew  on  it,  and  remained  in  the 
dark.     She  felt  no  malice,  she  harbored  no  sense  of  in- 

241 


MOTHER 

jury  in  her  heart.  A  dark,  cold  cloud  of  melancholy  set- 
tled on  her  breast,  and  impeded  the  beating  of  her  heart. 
Her  mind  was  a  void.  She  stood  at  the  window  a  long 
time;  her  feet  and  eyes  grew  weary.  She  heard  Marya 
stop  at  the  window,  and  shout :  "  Are  you  asleep,  Pela- 
gueya  ?  You  unfortunate,  suffering  woman,  sleep !  They 
abuse  everybody,  the  heretics !  "  At  last  she  dropped  into 
bed  without  undressing,  and  quickly  fell  into  a  heavy 
sleep,  as  if  she  had  plunged  into  a  deep  abyss. 

She  dreamed  she  saw  a  yellow  sandy  mound  beyond 
the  marsh  on  the  road  to  the  city.  At  the  edge,  which 
descended  perpendicularly  to  the  ditch,  from  which  sand 
was  being  taken,  stood  Pavel  singing  softly  and  sono- 
rously with  the  voice  of  Audrey: 

"Rise  up,  awake,  you  workingmen!" 

She  walked  past  the  mound  along  the  road  to  the  city, 
and  putting  her  hand  to  her  forehead  looked  at  her  son. 
His  figure  was  clearly  and  sharply  outlined  against  the 
sky.  She  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  go  up  to  him. 
She  was  ashamed  because  she  was  pregnant.  And  she 
held  an  infant  in  her  arms,  besides.  She  walked  farther 
on.  Children  were  playing  ball  in  the  field.  There  were 
many  of  them,  and  the  ball  was  a  red  one.  The  infant 
threw  himself  forward  out  of  her  arms  toward  them, 
and  began  to  cry  aloud.  She  gave  him  the  breast,  and 
turned  back.  Now  soldiers  were  already  at  the  mound, 
and  they  turned  the  bayonets  against  her.  She  ran 
quickly  to  the  church  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  field, 
the  white,  light  church  that  seemed  to  be  constructed 
out  of  clouds,  and  was  immeasurably  high.  A  funeral 
was  going  on  there.  The  coffin  was  wide,  black,  and 
tightly  covered  with  a  lid.  The  priest  and  deacon  walked 
around  in  white  canonicals  and  sang: 

242 


MOTHER 

"  Christ  has  arisen  from  the  dead." 

The  deacon  carried  the  incense,  bowed  to  her,  and 
smiled.  His  hair  was  glaringly  red,  and  his  face  jovial, 
like  Samoylov's.  From  the  top  of  the  dome  broad  sun- 
beams descended  to  the  ground.  In  both  choirs  the  boys 
sang  softly: 

"  Christ  has  arisen  from  the  dead." 

"  Arrest  them ! "  the  priest  suddenly  cried,  standing 
up  in  the  middle  of  the  church.  His  vestments  vanished 
from  his  body,  and  a  gray,  stern  mustache  appeared  on 
his  face.  All  the  people  started  to  run,  and  the  deacon, 
flinging  the  censer  aside,  rushed  forward,  seizing  his 
head  in  his  hands  like  the  Little  Russian.  The  mother 
dropped  the  infant  on  the  ground  at  the  feet  of  the 
people.  They  ran  to  the  side  of  her,  timidly  regard- 
ing the  naked  little  body.  She  fell  on  her  knees  and 
shouted  to  them :  "  Don't  abandon  the  child !  Take  it 
with  you !  " 

"  Christ  has  arisen  from  the  dead,"  the  Little  Russian 
sang,  holding  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  smiling.  He 
bent  down,  took  the  child,  and  put  it  on  the  wagon  loaded 
with  timber,  at  the  side  of  which  Nikolay  was  walking 
slowly,  shaking  with  laughter.     He  said: 

"  They  have  given  me  hard  work." 

The  street  was  muddy,  the  people  thrust  their  faces 
from  the  windows  of  the  houses,  and  whistled,  shouted, 
waved  their  hands.  The  day  was  clear,  the  sun  shone 
brightly,  and  there  was  not  a  single  shadow  anywhere. 

''  Sing,  mother !  "  said  the  Little  Russian.  "  Oh,  what 
a  life!" 

And  he  sang,  drowning  all  the  other  sounds  with  his 
kind,  laughing  voice.  The  mother  walked  behind  him, 
and  complained : 

"Why  does  he  make  fun  of  me?" 
243 


MOTHER 

But  suddenly  she  stumbled  and  fell  in  a  bottomless 
abyss.     Fearful  shrieks  met  her  in  her  descent. 

She  awoke,  shivering  and  yet  perspiring.  She  put 
her  ear,  as  it  were,  to  her  own  breast,  and  marveled  at 
the  emptiness  that  prevailed  there.  The  whistle  blew  in- 
sistently. From  its  sound  she  realized  that  it  was  already 
the  second  summons.  The  room  was  all  in  disorder ;  the 
books  and  clothes  lay  about  in  confusion ;  everything  was 
turned  upside  down,  and  dirt  was  trampled  over  the 
entire  floor. 

She  arose,  and  without  washing  or  praying  began  to 
set  the  room  in  order.  In  the  kitchen  she  caught  sight 
of  the  stick  with  the  piece  of  red  cloth.  She  seized  it 
angrily,  and  was  about  to  throw  it  away  under  the  oven, 
but  instead,  with  a  sigh,  removed  the  remnant  of  the  flag 
from  the  pole,  folded  it  carefully,  and  put  it  in  her 
pocket.  Then  she  began  to  wash  the  windows  with  cold 
water,  next  the  floor,  and  finally  herself;  then  dressed 
herself  and  prepared  the  samovar.  She  sat  down  at  the 
window  in  the  kitchen,  and  once  more  the  question  came 
to  her : 

*'  What  now  ?    What  am  I  to  do  now  ?  " 

Recollecting  that  she  had  not  yet  said  her  prayers,  she 
w^alked  up  to  the  images,  and  after  standing  before  them 
for  a  few  seconds,  she  sat  down  again.  Her  heart  was 
empty. 

The  pendulum,  which  always  beat  with  an  energy 
seeming  to  say :  **  I  must  get  to  the  goal !  I  must  get 
to  the  goal !  '*  slackened  its  hasty  ticking.  The  flies 
buzzed  irresolutely,  as  if  pondering  a  certain  plan  of 
action. 

Suddenly  she  recalled  a  picture  she  had  once  seen 
in  the  days  of  her  youth.  In  the  old  park  of  the  Zansay- 
lovs,   there   was  a  large  pond   densely  overgrown  with 

244 


MOTHER 

water  lilies.  One  gray  day  in  the  fall,  while  walking 
along  the  pond,  she  had  seen  a  boat  in  the  middle  of 
it.  The  pond  was  dark  and  calm,  and  the  boat  seemed 
glued  to  the  black  water,  thickly  strewn  with  yellow 
leaves.  Profound  sadness  and  a  vague  sense  of  mis- 
fortune were  wafted  from  that  boat  without  a  rower 
and  without  oars,  standing  alone  and  motionless  out 
there  on  the  dull  water  amid  the  dead  leaves.  The 
mother  had  stood  a  long  time  at  the  edge  of  the  pond 
meditating  as  to  who  had  pushed  the  boat  from  the 
shore  and  why.  Now  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  herself 
was  like  that  boat,  which  at  the  time  had  reminded  her 
of  a  coffin  waiting  for  its  dead.  In  the  evening  of  the 
same  day  she  had  learned  that  the  wife  of  one  of  Zan- 
saylov's  clerks  had  been  drowned  in  the  pond — a  little 
woman  with  black  disheveled  hair,  who  always  walked 
at  a  brisk  gait. 

The  mother  passed  her  hands  over  her  eyes  as  if  to 
rub  her  reminiscences  away,  and  her  thoughts  fluttered 
like  a  varicolored  ribbon.  Overcome  by  her  impressions 
of  the  day  before,  she  sat  for  a  long  time,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  cup  of  tea  grown  cold.  Gradually  the  desire 
came  to  see  some  wise,  simple  person,  speak  to  him,  and 
ask  him  many  things. 

As  if  in  answer  to  her  wish,  Nikolay  Ivanovich  came 
in  after  dinner.  When  she  saw  him,  however,  she  was 
suddenly  seized  with  alarm,  and  failed  to  respond  to  his 
greeting. 

"  Oh,  my  friend,"  she  said  softly,  "  there  was  no  use 
for  you  to  come  here.  If  they  arrest  you  here,  too, 
then  that  will  be  the  end  of  Pasha  altogether.  It's  very 
careless  of  you !  They'll  take  you  without  fail  if  they 
see  you  here." 

He  clasped  her  hand  tightly,  adjusted  his  glasses  on 
245 


MOTHER 

his  nose,  and  bending  his  face  close  to  her,  explained 
to  her  in  haste : 

''  I  made  an  agreement  with  Pavel  and  Andrey,  that 
if  they  were  arrested,  I  must  see  that  you  move  over 
to  the  city  the  very  next  day."  He  spoke  kindly,  but 
with  a  troubled  air.  "  Did  they  make  a  search  in  your 
house  ?  '' 

"  They  did.  They  rummaged,  searched,  and  nosed 
around.  Those  people  have  no  shame,  no  conscience ! " 
exclaimed  the  mother  indignantly. 

**  What  do  they  need  shame  for?  '*  said  Nikolay  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  explained  to  her  the  neces- 
sity of  her  going  to  the  city. 

His  friendly,  solicitous  talk  moved  and  agitated  her. 
She  looked  at  him  with  a  pale  smile,  and  wondered  at 
the  kindly  feeling  of  confidence  he  inspired  in  her. 

"  If  Pasha  wants  it,  and  Til  be  no  inconvenience  to 
you " 

"  Don't  be  uneasy  on  that  score.  I  live  all  alone ;  my 
sister  comes  over  only  rarely." 

**  I'm  not  going  to  cat  my  head  off  for  nothing,"  she 
said,  thinking  aloud. 

"  If  you  want  to  work,  you'll  find  something  to  do." 

Her  conception  of  work  was  now  indissolubly  con- 
nected with  the  work  that  her  son,  Andrey,  and  their 
comrades  were  doing.  She  moved  a  little  toward  Niko- 
lay, and  looking  in  his  eyes,  asked : 

"  Yes  ?    You  say  work  will  be  found  for  me  ?  " 

"  My  household  is  a  small  one,  I  am  a  bachelor " 

"  I'm  not  talking  about  that,  not  about  housework," 
she  said  quietly.    **  I  mean  world  work." 

And  she  heaved  a  melancholy  sigh,  stung  and  repelled 
by  his  failure  to  understand  her.  He  rose,  and  bending 
toward  her,  with  a  smile  in  his  nearsighted  eyes,  he  said 

246 


MOTHER 

thoughtfully,  "You'll  find  a  place  for  yourself  in  the 
work  world,  too,  if  you  want  it." 

Her  mind  quickly  formulated  the  simple  and  clear 
thought :  "  Once  I  was  able  to  help  Pavel ;  perhaps  I  will 
succeed  again.  The  greater  the  number  of  those  who 
work  for  his  cause,  the  clearer  will  his  truth  come  out 
before  the  people." 

But  these  thoughts  did  not  fully  express  the  whole 
force  and  complexity  of  her  desire. 

"  What  could  I  do  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

He  thought  a  while,  and  then  began  to  explain  the 
technical  details  of  the  revolutionary  work.  Among  other 
things,  he  said : 

"If,  when  you  go  to  see  Pavel  in  prison,  you  tried  to 
find  out  from  him  the  address  of  the  peasant  who  asked 
for  a  newspaper " 

"  I  know  it !  "  exclaimed  the  mother  in  delight.  "  I 
know  where  they  are,  and  who  they  are.  Give  me  the 
papers,  I'll  deliver  them.  FU  find  the  peasants,  and  do 
everything  just  as  you  say.  Who  will  think  that  I 
carry  illegal  books?  I  carried  books  to  the  factory.  I 
smuggled  in  more  than  a  hundred  pounds.  Heaven  be 
praised !  " 

The  desire  came  upon  her  to  travel  along  the  road, 
through  forests  and  villages,  with  a  birch-bark  sack  over 
her  shoulders,  and  a  staff  in  her  hand. 

"  Now,  you  dear,  dear  man,  you  just  arrange  it  for 
me,  arrange  it  so  that  I  can  work  in  this  movement.  I'll 
go  everywhere  for  you  I  I'll  keep  going  summer  and 
winter,  down  to  my  very  grave,  a  pilgrim  for  the  sake 
of  truth.  Why,  isn't  that  a  splendid  lot  for  a  woman  like 
me?  The  wanderer's  life  is  a  good  life.  He  goes  about 
through  the  world,  he  has  nothing,  he  needs  nothing  ex- 
cept bread,  no  one  abuses  him,  and  so.  quietly,  unnoticed, 

247 


MOTHER 

he  roves  over  the  earth.  And  so  I'll  go,  too;  FU  go  to 
Andrey,  to  Pasha,  wherever  they  live." 

She  was  seized  with  sadness  when  she  saw  herself 
homeless,  begging  for  alms,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  at 
the  windows  of  the  village  cottages. 

Nikolay  took  her  hand  gently,  and  stroked  it  with 
his  warm  hand.    Then,  looking  at  the  watch,  he  said : 

**  We'll  speak  about  that  later.  You  are  taking  a 
dangerous  burden  upon  your  shoulders.  You  must  con- 
sider very  carefully  what  you  intend  doing." 

'*  My  dear  man,  what  have  I  to  consider  ?  What  have 
I  to  live  for  if  not  for  this  cause?  Of  what  use  am  I 
to  anybody  ?  A  tree  grows,  it  gives  shade ;  it's  split  into 
wood,  and  it  warms  people.  Even  a  mere  dumb  tree  is 
helpful  to  life,  and  I  am  a  human  being.  The  children,  the 
best  blood  of  man,  the  best  there  is  of  our  hearts,  give 
up  their  liberty  and  their  lives,  perish  without  pity  for 
themselves !  And  I,  a  mother — am  I  to  stand  by  and  do 
nothing  ?  " 

The  picture  of  her  son  marching  at  the  head  of  the 
crowd  with  the  banner  in  his  hands  flashed  before  her 
mind. 

**  Why  should  I  lie  idle  when  my  son  gives  up  his 
life  for  the  sake  of  truth  ?  I  know  now — I  know  that  he 
is  working  for  the  truth.  It's  the  fifth  year  now  that  I 
live  beside  the  woodpile.  My  heart  has  melted  and 
begun  to  burn.  I  understand  what  you  are  striving  for. 
I  see  what  a  burden  you  all  carry  on  your  shoulders. 
Take  me  to  you,  too,  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  that  I  may 
be  able  to  help  my  son  !    Take  me  to  you  !  " 

Nikolay's  face  grew  pale ;  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and 
smiling,  said,  looking  at  her  with  sympathetic  attention: 

''This  is  the  first  time  I've  heard  such  words." 

"What  can  I  say?"  she  replied,  shaking  her  head 
248 


MOTHER 

sadly,  and  spreading  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  impotence. 
"  If  I  had  the  words  to  express  my  mother's  heart — " 
She  arose,  Hfted  by  the  power  that  waxed  in  her  breast, 
intoxicated  her,  and  gave  her  the  words  to  express  her 
indignation.  ''  Then  many  and  many  a  one  would  weep, 
and  even  the  wicked,  the  men  without  conscience  would 
tremble!  I  would  make  them  taste  gall,  even  as  they 
made  Christ  drink  of  the  cup  of  bitterness,  and  as  they 
now  do  our  children.  They  have  bruised  a  mother's 
heart!" 

Nikolay  rose,  and  pulling  his  little  beard  with  trem- 
bling fingers,  he  said  slowly  in  an  unfamiliar  tone  of 
voice : 

"  Some  day  you  will  speak  to  them,  I  think ! " 

He  started,  looked  at  his  watch  again,  and  asked  in 
a  hurry: 

"  So  it's  settled  ?  You'll  come  over  to  me  in  the 
city?" 

She  silently  nodded  her  head. 

"  When  ?  Try  to  do  it  as  soon  as  possible."  And  he 
added  in  a  tender  voice:  '*  I'll  be  anxious  for  you;  yes, 
indeed ! " 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  What  was  she  to  him  ? 
With  bent  head,  smiling  in  embarrassment,  he  stood  be- 
fore her,  dressed  in  a  simple  black  jacket,  stooping,  near- 
sighted. 

"  Have  you  money  ?  "  he  asked,  dropping  his  eyes. 

"  No." 

He  quickly  whipped  his  purse  out  of  his  pocket, 
opened  it,  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Here,  please  take  some." 

She  smiled  involuntarily,  and  shaking  her  head,  ob- 
served : 

"  Everything  about  all  of  you  is  different  from  other 
249 


MOTHER 

people.  Even  money  has  no  value  for  you.  People  do 
anything  to  get  money;  they  kill  their  souls  for  it.  But 
for  you  money  is  so  many  little  pieces  of  paper,  little  bits 
of  copper.  You  seem  to  keep  it  by  you  just  out  of  kind- 
ness to  people." 

Nikolay  Ivanovich  laughed  softly. 

'*  It's  an  awfully  bothersome  article,  money  is.  Both 
to  take  it  and  to  give  it  is  embarrassing." 

He  caught  her  hand,  pressed  it  warmly,  and  asked 
again : 

"  So  you  will  try  to  come  soon,  won't  you  ?  " 

And  he  walked  away  quietly,  as  was  his  wont. 

She  got  herself  ready  to  go  to  him  on  the  fourth  day 
after  his  visit.  When  the  cart  with  her  two  trunks  rolled 
out  of  the  village  into  the  open  country,  she  turned  her 
head  back,  and  suddenly  had  the  feeling  that  she  was 
leaving  the  place  forever — the  place  where  she  had  passed 
the  darkest  and  most  burdensome  period  of  her  life,  the 
place  where  that  other  varied  life  had  begun,  in  which 
the  next  day  swallowed  up  the  day  before,  and  each  was 
filled  by  an  abundance  of  new  sorrows  and  new  joys, 
new  thoughts  and  new  feelings. 

The  factory  spread  itself  like  a  huge,  clumsy,  dark- 
red  spider,  raising  its  lofty  smokestacks  high  up  into  the 
sky.  The  small  one-storied  houses  pressed  against  it, 
gray,  flattened  out  on  the  soot-covered  ground,  and 
crowded  up  in  close  clusters  on  the  edge  of  the  marsh. 
They  looked  sorrowfully  at  one  another  with  their  little 
dull  windows.  Above  them  rose  the  church,  also  dark 
red  like  the  factory.  The  belfry,  it  seemed  to  her,  was 
lower  than  the  factory  chimneys. 

The  mother  sighed,  and  adjusted  the  collar  of  her 
dress,  which  choked  her.  She  felt  sad,  but  it  was  a  dry 
sadness  like  the  dust  of  the  hot  day. 

250 


MOTHER 

"  Gee ! "  mumbled  the  driver,  shaking  the  reins  over 
the  horse.  He  was  a  bow-legged  man  of  uncertain 
height,  with  sparse,  faded  hair  on  his  face  and  head, 
and  faded  eyes.  Swinging  from  side  to  side  he  walked 
alongside  the  wagon.  It  was  evidently  a  matter  of  in- 
difference to  him  whether  he  went  to  the  right  or  the 
left. 

''  Gee !  "  he  called  in  a  colorless  voice,  with  a  comical 
forward  stride  of  his  crooked  legs  clothed  in  heavy  boots, 
to  which  clods  of  mud  were  clinging.  The  mother  looked 
around.  The  country  was  as  bleak  and  dreary  as  her 
soul. 

''  You'll  never  escape  want,  no  matter  where  you  go, 
auntie,"  the  driver  said  dully.  "  There's  no  road  leading 
away  from  poverty;  all  roads  lead  to  it,  and  none  out 
of  it." 

Shaking  its  head  dejectedly  the  horse  sank  its  feet 
heavily  into  the  deep  sun-dried  sand,  which  crackled 
softly  under  its  tread.  The  rickety  wagon  creaked  for 
lack  of  greasing. 


17 


CHAPTER    II 


IKOLAY  IVANOVICH  lived  on  a  quiet, 
deserted  street,  in  a  little  green  wing  an- 
nexed to  a  black  two-storied  structure 
swollen  with  age.  In  front  of  the  wing 
was  a  thickly  grown  little  garden,  and 
branches  of  lilac  bushes,  acacias,  and  silvery  young  pop- 
lars looked  benignly  and  freshly  into  the  windows  of  the 
three  rooms  occupied  by  Nikolay.  It  was  quiet  and  tidy 
in  his  place.  The  shadows  trembled  mutely  on  the  floor, 
shelves  closely  set  with  books  stretched  across  the  walls, 
and  portraits  of  stern,  serious  persons  hung  over  them. 
*'  Do  you  think  you'll  find  it  convenient  here  ?  "  asked 
Nikolay,  leading  the  mother  into  a  little  room  with  one 
window  giving  on  the  garden  and  another  on  the  grass- 
grown  yard.  In  this  room,  too,  the  walls  were  lined 
with  bookcases  and  bookshelves. 

"  I'd  rather  be  in  the  kitchen,"  she  said.     "  The  little 
kitchen  is  bright  and  clean." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  grew  rather  frightened. 
And  when  she  yielded  to  his  awkward  and  embarrassed 
persuasions  to  take  the  room,  he  immediately  cheered  up. 
There  was  a  peculiar  atmosphere  pervading  all  the 
three  rooms.  It  was  easy  and  pleasant  to  breathe  in 
them ;  but  one's  voice  involuntarily  dropped  a  note  in 
the  wish  not  to  speak  aloud  and.  intrude  upon  the  peace- 
ful thoughtfulness  of  the  people  who  sent  down  a  con- 
centrated look  from  the  walls. 

252 


MOTHMR 

The  flowers  need  watering,"  said  the  mother,  feel- 
ing the  earth  in  the  flowerpots  in  the  windows. 

''  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  master  guiltily.  **  I  love  them 
very  much,  but  I  have  no  time  to  take  care  of  them." 

The  mother  noticed  that  Nikolay  walked  about  in  his 
own  comfortable  quarters  just  as  carefully  and  as  noise- 
lessly as  if  he  were  a  stranger,  and  as  if  all  that  sur- 
rounded him  were  remote  from  him.  He  would  pick  up 
and  examine  some  small  article,  such  as  a  bust,  bring 
it  close  to  his  face,  and  scrutinize  it  minutely,  adjusting 
his  glasses  with  the  thin  finger  of  his  right  hand,  and 
screwing  up  his  eyes.  He  had  the  appearance  of  just 
having  entered  the  rooms  for  the  first  time,  and  every- 
thing seemed  as  unfamiliar  and  strange  to  him  as  to  the 
mother.  Consequently,  the  mother  at  once  felt  herself 
at  home.  She  followed  Nikolay,  observing  where  each 
thing  stood,  and  inquiring  about  his  ways  and  habits 
of  life.  He  answered  with  the  guilty  air  of  a  man  who 
knows  he  is  all  the  time  doing  things  as  they  ought  not 
to  be  done,  but  cannot  help  himself. 

After  she  had  watered  the  flowers  and  arranged  the 
sheets  of  music  scattered  in  disorder  over  the  piano,  she 
looked  at  the  samovar,  and  remarked,  "  It  needs  pol- 
ishing." 

Nikolay  ran  his  finger  over  the  dull  metal,  then  stuck 
the  finger  close  to  his  nose.  He  looked  at  the  mother 
so  seriously  that  she  could  not  restrain  a  good-natured 
smile. 

When  she  lay  down  to  sleep  and  thought  of  the 
day  just  past,  she  raised  her  head  from  the  pillow  in 
astonishment  and  looked  around.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  she  was  in  the  house  of  a  stranger,  and  she  did 
not  experience  the  least  constraint.  Her  mind  dwelt 
solicitously  on  Nikolay.     She  had  a  distinct  desire  to  do 

253 


MOTHER 

the  best  she  could  for  him,  and  to  Introduce  more  warmth 
into  his  lonely  life.  She  was  stirred  and  affected  by  his 
embarrassed  awkwardness  and  droll  ignorance,  and 
smiled  to  herself  with  a  sigh.  Then  her  thoughts  leaped 
to  her  son  and  to  Audrey.  She  recalled  the  high-pitched, 
sparkling  voice  of  Fedya,  and  gradually  the  whole  day 
of  the  first  of  May  unrolled  itself  before  her,  clothed  in 
new  sounds,  reflecting  new  thoughts.  The  trials  of  the 
day  were  peculiar  as  the  day  itself.  They  did  not  bring 
her  head  to  the  ground  as  with  the  dull,  stunning  blow 
of  the  fist.  They  stabbed  the  heart  with  a  thousand 
pricks,  and  called  forth  in  her  a  quiet  wrath,  opening 
her  eyes  and  straightening  her  backbone. 

"  Children  go  in  the  world,"  she  thought  as  she  lis- 
tened to  the  unfamiliar  nocturnal  sounds  of  the  city. 
They  crept  through  the  open  window  like  a  sigh  from 
afar,  stirring  the  leaves  in  the  garden  and  faintly  ex- 
piring in  the  room. 

Early  in  the  morning  she  polished  up  the  samovar, 
made  a  fire  in  it,  and  filled  it  with  water,  and  noiselessly 
placed  the  dishes  on  the  table.  Then  she  sat  down  in 
the  kitchen  and  waited  for  Nikolay  to  rise.  Presently 
she  heard  him  cough.  He  appeared  at  the  door,  holding 
his  glasses  in  one  hand,  the  other  hand  at  his  throat. 
She  responded  to  his  greeting,  and  brought  the  samo- 
var into  the  room.  He  began  to  wash  himself,  splash- 
ing the  water  on  the  floor,  dropping  the  soap  and  his 
toothbrush,  and  grumbling  in  dissatisfaction  at  him- 
self. 

When  they  sat  down  to  drink  tea,  he  said  to  the 
mother : 

"  I  am  employed  in  the  Zemstvo  board — a  very  sad 
occupation.  I  see  the  way  our  peasants  are  going  to 
ruin." 

254 


MOTHER 

And  smiling  he  repeated  guiltily :  **  It's  literally  so — 
I  see!  People  go  hungry,  they  lie  down  in  their  graves 
prematurely,  starved  to  death,  children  are  born  feeble 
and  sick,  and  drop  like  flies  in  autumn — we  know  all 
this,  we  know  the  causes  of  this  wretchedness,  and  for 
observing  it  we  receive  a  good  salary.  But  that's  all 
we  do,  really ;  truly  all  we  do." 

"  And  what  are  you,  a  student  ?  " 

"  No.  I'm  a  village  teacher.  My  father  was  super- 
intendent in  a  mill  in  Vyatka,  and  I  became  a  teacher. 
But  I  began  to  give  books  to  the  peasants  in  the  village, 
and  was  put  in  prison  for  it.  When  I  came  out  of  prison 
I  became  clerk  in  a  bookstore,  but  not  behaving  care- 
fully enough  I  got  myself  into  prison  again,  and  was 
then  exiled  to  Archangel.  There  I  also  got  into  trouble 
with  the  governor,  and  they  sent  me  to  the  White  Sea 
coast,  where  I  lived  for  five  years." 

His  talk  sounded  calm  and  even  in  the  bright  room 
flooded  with  sunlight.  The  mother  had  already  heard 
many  such  stories;  but  she  could  never  understand  why 
they  were  related  with  such  composure,  why  no  blame 
was  laid  on  anybody  for  the  suffering  the  people  had 
gone  through,  why  these  sufferings  were  regarded  as 
so  inevitable. 

"  My  sister  is  coming  to-day,"  he  announced. 

"  Is  she  married  ?  " 

"  She's  a  widow.  Her  husband  was  exiled  to  Siberia ; 
but  he  escaped,  caught  a  severe  cold  on  the  way,  and 
died  abroad  two  years  ago." 

"  Is  she  younger  than  you  ?  " 

"  Six  years  older.  I  owe  a  great  deal  to  her.  Wait, 
and  you'll  hear  how  she  plays.  That's  her  piano.  There 
are  a  whole  lot  of  her  things  here,  my  books " 

"  Where  does  she  live  ?  " 
255 


MOTHER 

"  Everywhere,"  he  answered  with  a  smile.  "  Where- 
ever  a  brave  soul  is  needed,  there's  where  you'll  find  her." 

"Also  in  this  movement?" 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

He  soon  left  to  go  to  work,  and  the  mother  fell  to 
thinking  of  '*  that  movement "  for  which  the  people 
worked,  day  in,  day  out,  calmly  and  resolutely.  When 
confronting  them  she  seemed  to  stand  before  a  mountain 
looming  in  the  dark. 

About  noon  a  tall,  well-built  lady  came.  When  the 
mother  opened  the  door  for  her  she  threw  a  little  yellow 
valise  on  the  floor,  and  quickly  seizing  Vlasova's  hand, 
asked : 

"  Are  you  the  mother  of  Pavel  Mikhaylovich  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  the  mother  replied,  embarrassed  by  the 
lady's  rich  appearance. 

"  That's  the  way  I  imagined  you,"  said  the  lady,  re- 
moving her  hat  in  front  of  the  mirror.  "  We  have  been 
friends  of  Pavel  Mikhaylovich  a  long  time.  He  spoke 
about  you  often." 

Her  voice  was  somewhat  dull,  and  she  spoke  slowly ; 
but  her  movements  were  quick  and  vigorous.  Her  large, 
limpid  gray  eyes  smiled  youthfully;  on  her  temples, 
however,  thin  radiate  wrinkles  were  already  limned,  and 
silver  hairs  glistened  over  her  ears. 

**  I'm  hungry ;  can  I  have  a  cup  of  coffee?  " 

"I'll  make  it  for  you  at  once."  The  mother  took 
down  the  coffee  apparatus  from  the  shelf  and  quietly 
asked  : 

"  Did  Pasha  speak  about  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  a  great  deal."  The  lady  took  out  a 
little  leather  cigarette  case,  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  in- 
quired :  "  You're  extremely  uneasy  about  him,  aren't 
you?" 

256 


MOTHER 

The  mother  smiled,  watching  the  blue,  quivering 
flame  of  the  spirit  lamp.  Her  embarrassment  at  the 
presence  of  the  lady  vanished  in  the  depths  of  her  joy. 

"So  he  talks  about  me,  my  dear  son ! "  she  thought. 

"  You  asked  me  whether  I'm  uneasy?  Of  course,  it's 
not  easy  for  me.  But  it  would  have  been  worse  some  time 
ago;  now  I  know  that  he's  not  alone,  and  that  even  I 
am  not  alone.''  Looking  into  the  lady's  face,  she  asked : 
"  What  is  your  name?  " 

"  Sofya,"  the  lady  answered,  and  began  to  speak  in 
a  businesslike  way.  "  The  most  important  thing  is  that 
they  should  not  stay  in  prison  long,  but  that  the  trial 
should  come  off  very  soon.  The  moment  they  are  exiled, 
we'll  arrange  an  escape  for  Pavel  Mikhaylovich.  There's 
nothing  for  him  to  do  in  Siberia,  and  he's  indispensable 
here." 

The  mother  incredulously  regarded  Sofya,  who  was 
searching  about  for  a  place  into  which  to  drop  her  cigar- 
ette stump,  and  finally  threw  it  in  a  flowerpot. 

"  That'll  spoil  the  flowers,"  the  mother  remarked 
mechanically. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Sofya  simply.  "  Nikolay  always 
tells  me  the  same  thing."  She  picked  up  the  stump  and 
threw  it  out  of  the  window.  The  mother  looked  at  her 
in  embarrassment,  and  said  guiltily: 

"  You  must  excuse  me.  I  said  it  without  thinking. 
Is  it  in  my  place  to  teach  you  ?  " 

"Why  not?  Why  not  teach  me,  if  I'm  a  sloven?" 
Sofya  calmly  queried  with  a  shrug.  "  I  know  it ;  but  I 
always  forget — the  worse  for  me.  It's  an  ugly  habit — 
to  throw  cigarette  stumps  any  and  everywhere,  and  to  lit- 
ter up  places  with  ashes — particularly  in  a  woman.  Clean- 
liness in  a  room  is  the  result  of  work,  and  all  work  ought 
to  be  respected.    Is  the  coffee  ready  ?    Thank  you !    Why 

257 


MOTHER 

one  cup  ?  Won't  you  have  any  ?  "  Suddenly  seizing  the 
mother  by  the  shoulder,  she  drew  her  to  herself,  and 
looking  into  her  eyes  asked  in  surprise :  "  Why,  are  you 
embarrassed  ?  " 

The  mother  answered  with  a  smile : 

"  I  just  blamed  you  for  throwing  the  cigarette  stump 
away — does  that  look  as  if  I  were  embarrassed  ?  ''  Her 
surprise  was  unconcealed.  "  I  came  to  your  house  only 
yesterday,  but  I  behave  as  if  I  were  at  home,  and  as  if 
I  had  known  you  a  long  time.  I'm  afraid  of  nothing; 
I  say  anything.    I  even  find  fault." 

*'  That's  the  way  it  ought  to  be." 

"  My  head's  in  a  whirl.  I  seem  to  be  a  stranger  to 
myself.  Formerly  I  didn't  dare  speak  out  from  my 
heart  until  I'd  been  with  a  person  a  long,  long  time. 
And  now  my  heart  is  always  open,  and  I  at  once  say 
things  I  wouldn't  have  dreamed  of  before,  and  a  lot  of 
things,  too."  Sofya  lit  another  cigarette,  turning  the  kind 
glance  of  her  gray  eyes  on  the  mother.  "  Yes,  you  speak 
of  arranging  an  escape.  But  how  will  he  be  able  to  live 
as  a  fugitive  ? "  The  mother  finally  gave  expression  to 
the  thought  that  was  agitating  her. 

"  That's  a  trifle,"  Sofya  remarked,  pouring  out  a  cup 
of  coflfee  for  herself.  "  He'll  Hve  as  scores  of  other  fugi- 
tives live.  I  just  met  one,  and  saw  him  off.  Another 
very  valuable  man,  who  worked  for  the  movement  in  the 
south.  He  was  exiled  for  five  years,  but  remiained  only 
three  and  a  half  months.  That's  why  I  look  such  a 
grande  dame.  Do  you  think  I  always  dress  this  way? 
I  can't  bear  this  fine  toggery,  this  sumptuous  rustle.  A 
human  being  is  simple  by  nature,  and  should  dress  simply 
— beautifully  but  simply." 

The  mother  looked  at  her  fixedly,  smiled,  and  shaking 
her  head  meditativclv  said  : 

25S 


MOTHER 

"  No,  it  seems  that  day,  the  first  of  May,  has  changed 
me.  I  feel  awkward  somehow  or  other,  as  if  I  were  walk- 
ing on  two  roads  at  the  same  time.  At  one  moment  I 
understand  everything;  the  next  moment  I  am  plunged 
into  a  mist.  Here  are  you !  I  see  you  a  lady ;  you  oc- 
cupy yourself  with  this  movement,  you  know  Pasha,  and 
you  esteem  him.    Thank  you !  " 

"  Why,  you  ought  to  be  thanked !  "  Sofya  laughed. 

"  I  ?  I  didn't  teach  him  about  the  movement,"  the 
mother  said  with  a  sigh.  *'  As  I  speak  now,"  she  con- 
tinued stubbornly,  "  everything  seems  simple  and  near. 
Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  cannot  understand  this  simplicity. 
Again,  I'm  calm.  In  a  second  I  grow  fearful,  because 
I  am  calm.  I  always  used  to  be  afraid,  my  whole  life 
long;  but  now  that  there's  a  great  deal  to  be  afraid  of, 
I  have  very  little  fear.  Why  is  it?  I  cannot  under- 
stand." She  stopped,  at  a  loss  for  words.  Sofya  looked 
at  her  seriously,  and  waited ;  but  seeing  that  the  mother 
was  agitated,  unable  to  find  the  expression  she  wanted, 
she  herself  took  up  the  conversation. 

"  A  time  will  come  when  you'll  understand  every- 
thing. The  chief  thing  that  gives  a  person  power  and 
faith  in  himself  is  when  he  begins  to  love  a  certain  cause 
with  all  his  heart,  and  knows  it  is  a  good  cause  of  use 
to  everybody.  There  is  such  a  love.  There's  every- 
thing. There's  no  human  being  too  mean  to  love.  But 
it's  time  for  me  to  be  getting  out  of  all  this  magnificence." 

Putting  the  stump  of  her  cigarette  in  the  saucer,  she 
shook  her  head.  Her  golden  hair  fell  back  in  thick 
waves.  She  walked  away  smiling.  The  mother  fol- 
lowed her  with  her  eyes,  sighed,  and  looked  around. 
Her  thoughts  came  to  a  halt,  and  in  a  half-drowsy,  op- 
pressive condition  of  quiet,  she  began  to  get  the  dishes 
together. 

259 


310  THE R 

At  four  o'clock  Nikolay  appeared.  Then  they  dined. 
Sofya,  laughing  at  times,  told  how  she  met  and  concealed 
the  fugitive,  how  she  feared  the  spies,  and  saw  one  in 
every  person  she  met,  and  how  comically  the  fugitive 
conducted  himself.  Something  in  her  tone  reminded 
the  mother  of  the  boasting  of  a  workingman  who  had 
completed  a  difficult  piece  of  work  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion. She  was  now  dressed  in  a  flowing,  dove-colored 
robe,  which  fell  from  her  shoulders  to  her  feet  in  wann 
waves.  The  effect  was  soft  and  noiseless.  She  appeared 
to  be  taller  in  this  dress;  her  eyes  seemed  darker,  and 
her  movements  less  nervous. 

"  Now,  Sofya,"  said  Nikolay  after  dinner,  "  here's 
another  job  for  you.  You  know  we  undertook  to  pub- 
lish a  newspaper  for  the  village.  But  our  connection 
with  the  people  there  was  broken,  thanks  to  the  latest 
arrests.  No  one  but  Pelagueya  Nilovna  can  show  us  the 
man  who  will  undertake  the  distribution  of  the  news- 
papers.   You  go  with  her.     Do  it  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Very  well,"  said  Sofya.  "We'll  go,  Pelagueya 
Nilovna." 

"  Yes,  we'll  go." 

"Is  it  far?" 

"  About  fifty  miles." 

"  Splendid!  And  now  Tm  going  to  play  a  little.  Do 
you  mind  listening  to  music,  Pelagueya  Nilovna  ?  " 

"  Don't  bother  about  me.  Act  as  if  I  weren't  here," 
said  the  mother,  seating  herself  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa. 
She  saw  that  the  brother  and  the  sister  went  on  with 
their  affairs  without  giving  heed  to  her;  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  she  seemed  involuntarily  to  mix  in  their  conversa- 
tion, imperceptibly  drawn  into  it  by  them. 

"  Listen  to  this,  Nikolay.  It's  by  Grieg.  I  brought 
it  to-day.     Shut  the  window." 

260 


MOTHER 

She  opened  the  piano,  and  struck  the  keys  lightly 
with  her  left  hand.  The  strings  sang  out  a  thick,  juicy  f<»t2^ 
melody.  Another  note,  breathing  a  deep,  full  breath,  "^^"^^ 
joined  itself  to  the  first,  and  together  they  formed 
a  vast  fullness  of  sound  that  trembled  beneath  its  own 
weight.  Strange,  limpid  notes  rang  out  from  under  the 
fingers  of  her  right  hand,  and  darted  ofif  in  an  alarming 
flight,  swaying  and  rocking  and  beating  against  one  an- 
other like  a  swarm  of  frightened  birds.  And  in  the  dark 
background  the  low  notes  sang  in  measured,  harmoni- 
ous cadence  like  the  waves  of  the  sea  exhausted  by  the 
storm.  Some  one  cried  out,  a  loud,  agitated,  woeful  cry 
of  rebellion,  questioned  and  appealed  in  impotent  an- 
guish, and,  losing  hope,  grew  silent;  and  then  again 
sang  his  rueful  plairlts,  now  resonant  and  clear,  now 
subdued  and  dejected.  In  response  to  this  song  came 
the  thick  waves  of  dark  sound,  broad  and  resonant,  in- 
different and  hopeless.  They  drowned  by  their  depth 
and  force  the  swarm  of  ringing  wails;  questions,  appeals, 
groans  blended  in  the  alarming  song.  At  times  the 
music  seemed  to  take  a  desperate  upward  flight,  sob- 
bing and  lamenting,  and  again  precipitated  itself,  crept 
low,  swung  hither  and  thither  on  the  dense,  vibratory 
current  of  bass  notes,  foundered,  and  disappeared  in 
them;  and  once  more  breaking  through  to  an  even  ca- 
dence, in  a  hopeless,  calm  rumble,  it  grew  in  volume, 
pealed  forth,  and  melted  and  dissolved  in  the  broad  flour- 
ish of  humid  notes- — which  continued  to  sigh  with  equal 
force  and  calmness,  never  wearying. 

At  first  the  sounds  failed  to  touch  the  mother.  They 
were  incomprehensible  to  her,  nothing  but  a  ringing 
chaos.  Her  ear  could  not  gather  a  melody  from  the  in- 
tricate mass  of  notes.  Half  asleep  she  looked  at  Nikolay 
sitting  with  his  feet  crossed  under  him  at  the  other  end 

261 


MOTHER 

of  the  long  sofa,  and  at  the  severe  profile  of  Sofya  with 
her  head  enveloped  in  a  mass  of  golden  hair.  The  sun 
shone  into  the  room.  A  single  ray,  trembling  pensively, 
at  first  lighted  up  her  hair  and  shoulder,  then  settled 
upon  the  keys  of  the  piano,  and  quivered  under  the  pres- 
sure of  her  fingers.  The  branches  of  the  acacia  rocked 
to  and  fro  outside  the  window.  The  room  became 
music-filled,  and  unawares  to  her,  the  mother's  heart 
was  stirred.  Three  notes  of  nearly  the  same  pitch, 
resonant  as  the  voice  of  Fedya  Mazin,  sparkled  in  the 
stream  of  sounds,  like  three  silvery  fish  in  a  brook.  At 
times  another  note  united  with  these  in  a  simple  song, 
which  enfolded  the  heart  in  a  kind  yet  sad  caress.  She 
began  to  watch  for  them,  to  await  their  warble,  and  she 
heard  only  their  music,  distinguished  from  the  tumultu- 
ous chaos  of  sound^  to  which  her  ears  gradually  became 
deaf. 

And  for  some  reason  there  rose  before  her  out  of  the 
obscure  depths  of  her  past,  wrongs  long  forgotten. 

Once  her  husband  came  home  late,  extremely  intoxi- 
cated. He  grasped  her  hand,  threw  her  from  the  bed 
to  the  floor,  kicked  her  in  the  side  with  his  foot,  and 
said: 

"  Get  out!    Fm  sick  of  you!    Get  out!  " 

In  order  to  protect  herself  from  his  blows,  she  quick- 
ly gathered  her  two-year-old  son  into  her  arms,  and 
kneeling  covered  herself  with  his  body  as  with  a  shield. 
He  cried,  struggled  in  her  arms,  frightened,  naked,  and 
warm. 

"  Get  out!  "  bellowed  her  husband. 

She  jumped  to  her  feet,  rushed  into  the  kitchen,  threw 
a  jacket  over  her  shoulders,  wrapped  the  baby  in  a 
shawl,  and  silently,  without  outcries  or  complaints,  bare- 
foot, in  nothing  but  a  shirt  under  her  jacket,  walked  out 

262 


MOTHER 

into  the  street.  It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  and  the 
night  was  fresh.  The  cold,  damp  dust  of  the  street 
stuck  to  her  feet,  and  got  between  her  toes.  The  child 
wept  and  struggled.  She  opened  her  breast,  pressed  her 
son  to  her  body,  and  pursued  by  fear  walked  down  the 
street,  quietly  lulling  the  baby. 

It  began  to  grow  light.  She  was  afraid  and  ashamed 
lest  some  one  come  out  on  the  street  and  see  her  half 
naked.  She  turned  toward  the  marsh,  and  sat  down  on 
the  ground  under  a  thick  group  of  aspens.  She  sat 
there  for  a  long  time,  embraced  by  the  night,  motionless, 
looking  into  the  darkness  with  wide-open  eyes,  and 
timidly  wailing  a  lullaby — a  lullaby  for  her  baby,  which 
had  fallen  asleep,  and  a  lullaby  for  her  outraged  heart. 

A  gray  bird  darted  over  her  head,  and  flew  far  away. 
It  awakened  her,  and  brought  her  to  her  feet.  Then, 
shivering  with  cold,  she  walked  home  to  confront  the 
horror  of  blows  and  new  insults. 

For  the  last  time  a  heavy  and  resonant  chord  heaved 
a  deep  breath,  indifferent  and  cold;  it  sighed  and  died 
away. 

Sofya  turned  around,  and  asked  her  brother  softly: 

"Did  you  like  it?" 

"  Very  much,"  he  said,  nodding  his  head.  "  Very 
much." 

Sofya  looked  at  the  mother's  face,  but  said  nothing. 

''  They  say,"  said  Nikolay  thoughtfully,  throwing 
himself  deeper  back  on  the  sofa,  "  that  you  should  listen 
to  music  without  thinking.    But  I  can't." 

"  Nor  can  I,"  said  Sofya,  striking  a  melodious  chord. 

"  I  listened,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  people  were 
putting  their  questions  to  nature,  that  they  grieved  and 
groaned,  and  protested  angrily,  and  shouted,  '  Why  ? ' 
Nature  does  not  answer,  but  goes  on  calmly  creating, 

263 


MOTHER 

incessantly,  forever.  In  her  silence  is  heard  her  answer: 
*  I  do  not  know.'  " 

The  mother  listened  to  Nikolay's  quiet  words  with- 
out understanding  them,  and  without  desiring  to  un- 
derstand. Her  bosom  echoed  with  her  reminiscences, 
and  she  wanted  more  music.  Side  by  side  with  her 
memories  the  thought  unfolded  itself  before  her:  "  Here 
live  people,  a  brother  and  sister,  in  friendship ;  they 
live  peacefully  and  calmly — they  have  music  and  books 
— they  don't  swear  at  each  other — they  don't  drink 
whisky — they  don't  quarrel  for  a  relish — they  have  no 
desire  to  insult  each  other,  the  way  all  the  people  at  the 
bottom  do." 

Sofya  quickly  lighted  a  cigarette;  she  smoked  almost 
without  intermission. 

"  This  used  to  be  the  favorite  piece  of  Kostya,"  she 
said,  as  a  veil  of  smoke  quickly  enveloped  her.  She 
again  struck  a  low  mournful  chord.  "  How  I  used  to 
love  to  play  for  him!  You  remember  how  well  he 
translated  music  into  language? "  She  paused  and 
smiled.  ''  How  sensitive  he  was!  What  fine  feelings  he 
had — so  responsive  to  everything — so  fully  a  man!  " 

"  She  must  be  recalling  memories  of  her  husband," 
the  mother  noted,  "and  she  smiles!" 

"How  much  happiness  that  man  gave  me!"  said 
Sofya  in  a  low  voice,  accompanying  her  words  with  light 
sounds  on  the  keys.  "  What  a  capacity  he  had  for  living! 
He  was  always  aglow  with  joy,  buoyant,  childlike  joy!  " 

"  Childlike,"  repeated  the  mother  to  herself,  and 
shook  her  head  as  if  agreeing  with  something. 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Nikolay,  pulling  his  beard,  "  his  soul 
was  always  singing." 

"  When  I  played  this  piece  for  him  the  first  time, 
he  put  it  in  these  words."    Sofya  turned  her  face  to  her 

264 


MOTHER 

brother,  and  slowly  stretched  out  her  arms.  Encircled 
with  blue  streaks  of  smoke,  she  spoke  in  a  low,  raptur- 
ous voice.  ''  In  a  barren  sea  of  the  far  north,  under  the 
gray  canopy  of  the  cold  heavens,  stands  a  lonely  black 
island,  an  unpeopled  rock,  covered  with  ice;  the  smooth- 
ly polished  shore  descends  abruptly  into  the  gray,  foam- 
ing billows.  The  transparently  blue  blocks  of  ice  in- 
hospitably float  on  the  shaking  cold  water  and  press 
against  the  dark  rock  of  the  island.  Their  knocking 
resounds  mournfully  in  the  dead  stillness  of  the  barren 
sea.  They  have  been  floating  a  long  time  on  the  bot- 
tomless depths,  and  the  waves  splashing  about  them 
have  quietly  borne  them  toward  the  lonely  rock  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea.  The  sound  is  grewsome  as  they  break 
against  the  shore  and  against  one  another,  sadly  in- 
quiring: '  Why?'  " 

Sofya  flung  away  the  cigarette  she  had  begun  to 
smoke,  turned  to  the  piano,  and  again  began  to  play  the 
ringing  plaints,  the  plaints  of  the  lonely  blocks  of  ice 
by  the  shore  of  the  barren  island  in  the  sea  of  the  far 
north. 

The  mother  was  overcome  with  unendurable  sadness 
as  she  listened  to  the  simple  sketch.  It  blended  strange- 
ly with  her  past,  into  which  her  recollections  kept  boring 
deeper  and  deeper. 

"  In  music  one  can  hear  everything,"  said  Nikolay 
quietly. 

Sofya  turned  toward  the  mother,  and  asked: 

"  Do  you  mind  my  noise?  " 

The  mother  was  unable  to  restrain  her  slight  irrita- 
tion. 

''  I  told  you  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  me.  I  sit 
here  and  listen  and  think  about  myself." 

"  No,  you  ought  to  understand/'  said  Sofya.  "  A 
265 


MOTHER 

woman  can't  help  understanding  music,  especially  when 
in  grief." 

She  struck  the  keys  powerfully,  and  a  loud  shout 
went  forth,  as  if  some  one  had  suddenly  heard  horrible 
news,  which  pierced  him  to  the  heart,  and  wrenched 
from  him  this  troubled  sound.  Young  voices  trembled 
in  affright,  people  rushed  about  in  haste,  pellmell. 
Again  a  loud,  angry  voice  shouted  out,  drowning  all 
other  sounds.  Apparently  a  catastrophe  had  occurred, 
in  which  the  chief  source  of  pain  was  an  affront  offered 
to  some  one.  It  evoked  not  complaints,  but  wrath. 
Then  some  kindly  and  powerful  person  appeared,  who 
began  to  sing,  just  like  Andrey,  a  simple  beautiful 
song,  a  song  of  exhortation  and  summons  to  himself. 
The  voices  of  the  bass  notes  grumbled  in  a  dull, 
offended  tone. 

Sofya  played  a  long  time.  The  music  disquieted  the 
mother,  and  aroused  in  her  a  desire  to  ask  of  what  it 
was  speaking.  Indistinct  sensations  and  thoughts  passed 
through  her  mind  in  quick  succession.  Sadness  and 
anxiety  gave  place  to  moments  of  calm  joy.  A  swarm  of 
unseen  birds  seemed  to  be  flying  about  in  the  room, 
penetrating  everywhere,  touching  the  heart  with  caress- 
ing wings,  soothing  and  at  the  same  time  alarming  it. 
The  feelings  in  the  mother's  breast  could  not  be  fixed 
in  words.  They  emboldened  her  heart  with  perplexed 
hopes,  they  fondled  it  in  a  fresh  and  firm  embrace. 

A  kindly  impulse  came  to  her  to  say  something  good 
both  to  these  two  persons  and  to  all  people  in  general. 
She  smiled  softly,  intoxicated  by  the  music,  feeling  her- 
self capable  of  doing  work  helpful  to  the  brother  and 
sister.  Her  eyes  roved  about  in  search  of  something  to 
do  for  them.  She  saw  nothing  but  to  walk  out  into  the 
kitchen  quietly,  and  prepare  the  samovar.     But  this  did 

266 


MOTHER 

not  satisfy  her  desire.  It  struggled  stubbornly  in  her 
"breast,  and  as  she  poured  out  the  tea  she  began  to  speak 
excitedly  with  an  agitated  smile.  She  seemed  to  be- 
stow the  words  as  a  warm  caress  impartially  on  Sofya 
and  Nikolay  and  on  herself. 

"  We  people  at  the  bottom  feel  everything;  but  it  is 
hard  for  us  to  speak  out  our  hearts.  Our  thoughts  float 
about  in  us.  We  are  ashamed  because,  although  we  \ 
understand,  we  are  not  able  to  express  them ;  and  often 
from  shame  we  are  angry  at  our  thoughts,  and  at  those 
who  inspire  them.  We  drive  them  away  from  ourselves. 
For  life,  you  see,  is  so  troublesome.  From  all  sides  we 
get  blows  and  beatings;  we  want  rest,  and  there  come 
the  thoughts  that  rouse  our  souls  and  demand  things 
of  us." 

Nikolay  listened,  and  nodded  his  head,  rubbing  his 
eyeglasses  briskly,  while  Sofya  looked  at  her,  her  large 
eyes  wide  open  and  the  forgotten  cigarette  burning  to 
ashes.  She  sat  half  turned  from  the  piano,  supple  and 
shapely,  at  times  touching  the  keys  lightly  with  the 
slender  fingers  of  her  right  hand.  The  pensive  chord 
blended  delicately  with  the  speech  of  the  mother,  as 
she  quickly  invested  her  new  feelings  and  thoughts  in 
simple,  hearty  words. 

'*  Now  I  am  able  to  say  something  about  myself, 
about  my  people,  because  I  understand  life.  I  began  to 
tmderstand  it  when  I  was  able  to  make  comparisons. 
Before  that  time  there  was  nobody  to  compare  myself 
with.  In  our  state,  you  see,  all  lead  the  same  life,  and 
now  that  I  see  how  others  live,  I  look  back  at  my  life, 
and  the  recollection  is  hard  and  bitter.  But  it  is  impos- 
sible to  return,  and  even  if  you  could,  you  wouldiii't  find 
your  youth  again.  And  I  think  I  understand  a  great 
deal.  Here,  I  am  looking  at  you,  and  I  recollect  all 
18  267 


MOTHER 

your  people  whom  I've  seen."  She  lowered  her  voice 
and  continued:  ''Maybe  I  don't  say  things  right,  and 
I  needn't  say  them,  because  you  know  them  yourself; 
but  I'm  just  speaking  for  myself.  You  at  once  set  me 
alongside  of  you.  You  don't  need  anything  of  me; 
you  can't  make  use  of  me;  you  can't  get  any  enjoyment 
out  of  me,  I  know  it.  And  day  after  day  my  heart  grows, 
thank  God!  It  grows  in  goodness,  and  I  wish  good  for 
everybody.  This  is  my  thanks  that  I'm  saying  to  you." 
Tears  of  happy  gratitude  affected  her  voice,  and  look- 
ing at  them  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes,  she  went  on:  '*  I 
want  to  open  my  heart  before  you,  so  that  you  may  see 
how  I  wish  your  welfare." 

"  We  see  it,"  said  Nikolay  in  a  low  voice.  "  You're 
making  a  holiday  for  us." 

"  What  do  you  think  I  imagined?  "  the  mother  asked 
with  a  smile  and  lowering  her  voice.  "  I  imagined  I 
found  a  treasure,  and  became  rich,  and  I  could  endow 
everybody.  Maybe  it's  only  my  stupidity  that's  run  away 
with  me." 

"  Don't  speak  like  that,"  said  Sofya  seriously.  ''  You 
mustn't  be  ashamed." 

The  mother  began  to  speak  again,  telling  Sofya  and 
Nikolay  of  herself,  her  poor  Hfe,  her  wrongs,  and  patient 
sufferings.  Suddenly  she  stopped  in  her  narrative.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  was  turning  aside,  away  from 
herself,  and  speaking  about  somebody  else.  In  simple 
words,  without  malice,  with  a  sad  smile  on  her  lips,  she 
drew  the  monotonous,  gray  sketch  of  sorrowful  days. 
She  enumerated  the  beatings  she  had  received  from 
her  husband ;  and  herself  marveled  at  the  trifling  causes 
that  led  to  them  and  her  own  inability  to  avert  them. 

The  brother  and  sister  listened  to  her  in  attentive 
silence,  impressed  by  the  deep  significance  of  the  un- 

268 


MOTHMR 

adorned  story  of  a  human  being,  who  was  regarded 
as  cattle  are  regarded,  and  who,  without  a  murmur,  for 
a  long  time  felt  herself  to  be  that  which  she  was  held 
to  be.  It  seemed  to  them  as  if  thousands,  nay  millions, 
of  Hves  spoke  through  her  mouth.  Her  existence  had 
been  commonplace  and  simple;  but  such  is  the  simple, 
ordinary  existence  of  multitudes,  and  her  story,  assum- 
ing ever  larger  proportions  in  their  eyes,  took  on  the 
significance  of  a  symbol.  Nikolay,  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  and  his  head  leaning  on  his  hands,  looked  at  her 
through  his  glasses  without  moving,  his  eyes  screwed 
up  intently.  Sofya  flung  herself  back  on  her  chair. 
Sometimes  she  trembled,  and  at  times  muttered  to  her- 
self, shaking  her  head  in  disapproval.  Her  face  grew 
paler.    Her  eyes  deepened. 

"  Once  I  thought  myself  unhappy.  My  life  seemed 
a  fever,"  said  Sofya,  inclining  her  head.  "  That  was 
when  I  was  in  exile.  It  was  in  a  small  district  town. 
There  was  nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  think  about  except 
myself.  I  swept  all  my  misfortunes  together  into  one 
heap,  and  weighed  them,  from  lack  of  anything  better 
to  do.  Then  I  quarreled  with  my  father,  whom  I  loved. 
I  was  expelled  from  the  gymnasium,  and  insulted — the 
prison,  the  treachery  of  a  comrade  near  to  me,  the 
arrest  of  my  husband,  again  prison  and  exile,  the  death 
of  my  husband.  But  all  my  misfortunes,  and  ten  times 
their  number,  are  not  worth  a  month  of  your  life,  Pela- 
gueya  Nilovna.  Your  torture  continued  daily  through 
years.  From  where  do  the  people  draw  their  power  to 
suffer?" 

"  They  get  used  to  it,"  responded  the  mother  with 
a  sigh. 

"  I  thought  I  knew  that  life,"  said  Nikolay  softly. 
*'  But  when  I  hear  it  spoken  of — not  when  my  books, 

269 


MOTHER 

not  when  my  incomplete  impressions  speak  about  it, 
but  she  herself  with  a  living  tongue — it  is  horrible.  And 
the  details  are  horrible,  the  inanities,  the  seconds  of 
which  the  years  are  made." 

The  conversation  sped  along,  thoughtfully  and  quiet- 
ly. It  branched  out  and  embraced  the  whole  of  com- 
mon life  on  all  sides.  The  mother  became  absorbed  in 
her  recollections.  From  her  dim  past  she  drew  to  light 
each  daily  wrong,  and  gave  a  massive  picture  of  the 
huge,  dumb  horror  in  which  her  youth  had  been  sunk. 
Finally  she  said: 

"  Oh!  How  I've  been  chattering  to  you!  It's  time 
for  you  to  rest.     I'll  never  be  able  to  tell  you  all." 

The  brother  and  sister  took  leave  of  her  in  silence. 
Nikolay  seemed  to  the  mother  to  bow  lower  to  her  than 
ever  before  and  to  press  her  hand  more  firmly.  Sofya 
accompanied  her  to  her  room,  and  stopping  at  the  door 
said  softly :  **  Now  rest.    I  hope  you  have  a  good  night." 

Her  voice  blew  a  warm  breath  on  the  mother,  and 
her  gray  eyes  embraced  the  mother's  face  in  a  caress. 
She  took  Sofya's  hand  and  pressing  it  in  hers,  answered: 
"  Thank  you!    You  are  good  people." 


(/:hapter  III 

'HREE  days  passed  in  incessant  conversa- 
tions with  Sofya  and  Nikolay.  The  mother 
continued  to  recount  tales  of  the  past, 
which  stubbornly  arose  from  the  depths  of 
her  awakened  soul,  and  disturbed  even  her- 
self. Her  past  demanded  an  explanation.  The  attention 
with  which  the  brother  and  sister  listened  to  her  opened 
her  heart  more  and  more  widely,  freeing  her  from  the 
narrow,  dark  cage  of  her  former  life. 

On  the  fourth  day,  early  in  the  morning,  she  and 
Sofya  appeared  before  Nikolay  as  burgher  women, 
poorly  clad  in  worn  chintz  skirts  and  blouses,  with  birch- 
bark  sacks  on  their  shoulders,  and  canes  in  their  hands. 
This  costume  reduced  Sofya's  height  and  gave  a  yet 
sterner  appearance  to  her  pale  face. 

''  You  look  as  if  you  had  walked  about  monasteries 
all  your  life,"  observed  Nikolay  on  taking  leave  of  his 
sister,  and  pressed  her  hand  warmly.  The  mother  again 
remarked  the  simplicity  and  calmness  of  their  relation 
to  each  other.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  get  used  to  it. 
No  kissing,  no  affectionate  words  passed  between  them; 
but  they  behaved  so  sincerely,  so  amicably  and  solici- 
tously toward  each  other.  In  the  life  she  had  been  ac- 
customed to,  people  kissed  a  great  deal  and  uttered 
many  sentimental  words,  but  always  bit  at  one  another 
like  hungry  dogs. 

The    women    walked    down    the    street    in    silence, 
271 


MOTHER 

reached  the  open  country,  and  strode  on  side  by  side 
along  the  wide  beaten  road  between  a  double  row  of 
birches. 

''Won't  you  get  tired?"  the  mother  asked. 

''  Do  you  think  I  haven't  done  much  walking?  All 
this  is  an  old  story  to  me." 

With  a  merry  smile,  as  if  speaking  of  some  glorious 
childhood  frolics,  Sofya  began  to  tell  the  mother  of  her 
revolutionary  work.  She  had  had  to  live  under  a 
changed  name,  use  counterfeit  documents,  disguise  her- 
self in  various  costumes  in  order  to  hide  from  spies, 
carry  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  pounds  of  illegal  books 
through  various  cities,  arrange  escapes  for  comrades  in 
exile,  and  escort  them  abroad.  She  had  had  a  printing 
press  fixed  up  in  her  quarters,  and  when  on  learning  of 
it  the  gendarmes  appeared  to  make  a  search,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  a  minute's  time  before  their  arrival  in  dressing 
as  a  servant,  and  walking  out  of  the  house  just  as  her 
guests  were  entering  at  the  gate.  She  met  them  there. 
Without  an  outer  wrap,  a  light  kerchief  on  her  head,  a 
tin  kerosene  can  in  her  hand,  she  traversed  the  city 
from  one  end  to  the  other  in  the  biting  cold  of  a  win- 
ter's day.  Another  time  she  had  just  arrived  in  a  strange 
city  to  pay  a  visit  to  friends.  When  she  was  already 
on  the  stairs  leading  to  their  quarters,  she  noticed  that 
a  search  was  being  conducted  in  their  apartments.  To 
turn  back  was  too  late.  W^ithout  a  second's  hesitation 
she  boldly  rang  the  bell  at  the  door  of  a  lower  floor,  and 
walked  in  with  her  traveling  bag  to  unknown  people. 
She  frankly  explained  the  position  she  was  in. 

"  You  can  hand  me  over  to  the  gendarmes  if  you 
want  to;  but  I  don't  think  you  will,"  she  said  confidently. 

The  people  were  greatly  frightened,  and  did  not 
sleep  the  whole  night.    Every  minute  they  expected  the 

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sound  of  the  gendarmes  knocking  at  the  door.  Never- 
theless, they  could  not  make  up  their  minds  to  deliver 
her  over  to  them,  and  the  next  morning  they  had  a 
hearty  laugh  with  her  over  the  gendarmes. 

And  once,  dressed  as  a  nun,  she  traveled  in  the 
same  railroad  coach,  in  fact,  sat  on  the  yery  same  seat, 
with  a  spy,  then  in  search  of  her.  He  boasted  of  his  skill, 
and  told  her  how  he  was  conducting  his  search.  He 
was  certain  she  was  riding  on  the  same  train  as  him- 
self, in  a  second-class  coach;  but  at  every  stop,  after 
walking  out,  he  came  back  saying:  "  Not  to  be  seen. 
She  must  have  gone  to  bed.  They,  too,  get  tired.  Their 
life  is  a  hard  one,  just  like  ours." 

The  mother  listening  to  her  stories  laughed,  and  re- 
garded her  affectionately.  Tall  and  dry,  Sofya  strode 
along  the  road  lightly  and  firmly,  at  an  even  gait.  In 
her  walk,  her  words,  and  the  very  sound  of  her  voice — 
although  a  bit  dull,  it  was  yet  bold — in  all  her  straight 
and  stolid  figure,  there  was  much  of  robust  strength, 
jovial  daring,  and  thirst  for  space  and  freedom.  Her 
eyes  looked  at  everything  with  a  youthful  glance.  She 
constantly  spied  something  that  gladdened  her  heart 
with  childlike  joy. 

"  See  what  a  splendid  pine !  '*  she  exclaimed,  point- 
ing out  a  tree  to  the  mother. 

The  mother  looked  and  stopped.  It  was  a  pine 
neither  higher  nor  thicker  than  others. 

"  Ye-es,  ye-es,  a  good  tree,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Do  you  hear?  A  lark !  "  Sofya  raised  her  head,  and 
looked  into  the  blue  expanse  of  the  sky  for  the  merry 
songster.  Her  gray  eyes  flashed  with  a  fond  glance, 
and  her  body  seemed  to  rise  from  the  ground  to  meet 
the  music  ringing  from  an  unseen  source  in  the  far- 
distant  height.     At  times  bending  over,  she  plucked  a 

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MOTHER 

field  flower,  and  with  light  touches  of  her  slender,  agile 
fingers,  she  fondly  stroked  the  quivering  petals  and 
hummed  quietly  and  prettily. 

Over  them  burned  the  kindly  spring  sun.  The  blue 
depths  flashed  softly.  At  the  sides  of  the  road  stretched 
a  dark  pine  forest.  The  fields  were  verdant,  birds  sang, 
and  the  thick,  resinous  atmosphere  stroked  the  face 
warmly  and  tenderly. 

All  this  moved  the  mother's  heart  nearer  to  the 
woman  with  the  bright  eyes  and  the  bright  soul;  and, 
trying  to  keep  even  pace  with  her,  she  involuntarily 
pressed  close  to  Sofya,  as  if  desiring  to  draw  into  herself 
her  hearty  boldness  and  freshness. 

"  How  young  you  are!  "  the  mother  sighed. 

"  I'm  thirty-two  years  old  already!  " 

Vlasova  smiled.  "  I'm  not  talking  about  that.  To 
judge  by  your  face,  one  would  say  you're  older;  but  one 
wonders  that  your  eyes,  your  voice  are  so  fresh,  so 
springlike,  as  if  you  were  a  young  girl.  Your  life  is  so 
hard  and  troubled,  yet  your  heart  is  smiling." 

''  The  heart  is  smiling,"  repeated  Sofya  thoughtfully. 
"  How  well  you  speak — simple  and  good.  A  hard  life, 
you  say?  But  I  don't  feel  that  it  is  hard,  and  I  cannot 
imagine  a  better,  a  more  interestir^g  life  than  this." 

"  What  pleases  me  more  than  anything  else  is  to  see 
how  you  all  know  the  roads  to  a  human  being's  heart. 
Everything  in  a  person  opens  itself  out  to  you  without 
fear  or  caution — just  so,  all  of  itself,  the  heart  throws 
itself  open  to  meet  you.  I'm  thinking  of  all  of  you.  You 
overcome  the  evil  in  the  world — overcome  it  absolutely." 

"  We  shall  be  victorious,  because  we  are  with  the 
working  people,"  said  Sofya  with  assurance.  "  Our 
power  to  work,  our  faith  in  the  victory  of  truth  we  ob- 
tain from  you,  from  the  people;  and  the  people  is  the 

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MOTHER 

inexhaustible  source  of  spiritual  and  physical  strength. 
In  the  people  are  vested  all  possibilities,  and  with  them 
everything  is  attainable.  It's  necessary  only  to  arouse 
their  consciousness,  their  soul,  the  great  soul  of  a  child, 
who  is  not  given  the  liberty  to  grow."  She  spoke  softly 
and  simply,  and  looked  pensively  before  her  down  the 
winding  depths  of  the  road,  where  a  bright  haze  was 
quivering. 

Sofya's  words  awakened  a  complex  feeling  in  the 
mother's  heart.  For  some  reason  she  felt  sorry  for  her. 
Her  pity,  however,  was  not  offensive ;  not  bred  of 
familiarity.  She  marveled  that  here  was  a  lady  walking 
on  foot  and  carrying  a  dangerous  burden  on  her  back. 

"  Who's  going  to  reward  you  for  your  labors  ?  " 

Sofya  answered  the  mother's  thought  with  pride: 

"  We  are  already  rewarded  for  everything.  We  have 
found  a  life  that  satisfies  us;  we  live  broadly  and  fully, 
with  all  the  power  of  our  souls.  What  else  can  we 
desire?" 

Filling  their  lungs  with  the  aromatic  air,  they  paced 
along,  not  swiftly,  but  at  a  good,  round  gait.  The 
mother  felt  she  was  on  a  pilgrimage.  She  recollected 
her  childhood,  the  fine  joy  with  which  she  used  to  leave 
the  village  on  hoHdays  to  go  to  a  distant  monastery, 
where  there  was  a  wonder-working  icon. 

Sometimes  Sofya  would  hum  some  new  unfamiliar 
songs  about  the  sky  and  about  love,  or  suddenly  she 
would  begin  to  recite  poems  about  the  fields  and  forests 
and  the  Volga.  The  mother  listened,  a  smile  on  her 
face,  swinging  her  head  to  the  measure  of  the  tune  or 
rhythm,  involuntarily  yielding  to  the  music.  Her  breast 
was  pervaded  by  a  soft,  melancholy  warmth,  like  the 
atmosphere  in  a  little  old  garden  on  a  summer  night. 

On  the  third  day  they  arrived  at  the  village,  and  the 
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MOTHER 

mother  inquired  of  a  peasant  at  work  in  the  field  where 
the  tar  works  were.  Soon  they  were  descending  a  steep 
woody  path,  on  which  the  exposed  roots  of  the  trees 
formed  steps  through  a  small,  round  glade,  which  was 
choked  up  with  coal  and  chips  of  wood  caked  with  tar. 

Outside  a  shack  built  of  poles  and  branches,  at  a 
table  formed  simply  of  three  unplaned  boards  laid  on  a 
trestle  stuck  firmly  into  the  ground,  sat  Rybin,  all  black- 
ened, his  shirt  open  at  his  breast,  Yefim,  and  two  other 
young  men.  They  were  just  dining.  Rybin  was  the 
first  to  notice  the  women.  Shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  he  waited  in  silence. 

"How  do  you  do,  brother  Mikhail?"  shouted  the 
mother  from  afar. 

He  arose  and  leisurely  walked  to  meet  them.  When 
he  recognized  the  mother,  he  stopped  and  smiled  and 
stroked  his  beard  with  his  black  hand. 

"  We  are  on  a  pilgrimage,"  said  the  mother,  ap- 
proaching him.  "  And  so  I  thought  I  would  stop  in 
and  see  my  brother.    This  is  my  friend  Anna." 

Proud  of  her  resourcefulness  she  looked  askance  at 
Sofya's  serious,  stern  face. 

**  How  are  you?"  said  Rybin,  smiling  grimly.  He 
shook  her  hand,  bowed  to  Sofya,  and  continued:  "  Don't 
lie.  This  isn't  the  city.  No  need  of  Hes.  These  are  all 
our  own  people,  good  people." 

Yefim,  sitting  at  the  table,  looked  sharply  at  the  pil- 
grims, and  whispered  something  to  his  comrades.  When 
the  women  walked  up  to  the  table,  he  arose  and  silently 
bowed  to  them.  His  comrades  didn't  stir,  seeming  to 
take  no  notice  of  the  guests. 

"  We  live  here  like  monks,"  said  Rybin,  tapping  the 
mother  lightly  on  the  shoulder.  "  No  one  comes  to 
us;  our  master  is  not  in  the  village;  the  mistress  was 

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MOTHER 

taken  to  the  hospital.  And  now  I'm  a  sort  of  superin- 
tendent. Sit  down  at  the  table.  Maybe  you're  hungry. 
Yefim,  bring  some  milk." 

Without  hurrying,  Yefim  walked  into  the  shack.  The 
travelers  removed  the  sacks  from  their  shoulders,  and 
one  of  the  men,  a  tall,  lank  fellow,  rose  from  the  table 
to  help  them.  Another  one,  resting  his  elbows  thought- 
fully on  the  table,  looked  at  them,  scratching  his  head 
and  quietly  humming  a  song. 

The  pungent  odor  of  the  fresh  tar  blended  with  the 
stifling  smell  of  decaying  leaves  dizzied  the  newcomers. 

"  This  fellow  is  Yakob,"  said  Rybin,  pointing  to  the 
tall  man,  "  and  that  one  Ignaty.    Well,  how's  your  son?  " 

"  He's  in  prison,"  the  mother  sighed. 

"  In  prison  again?    He  likes  it,  I  suppose." 

Ignaty  stopped  humming;  Yakob  took  the  staff  from 
the  mother's  hand,  and  said: 

"  Sit  down,  little  mother." 

"  Yes,  why  don't  you  sit  down?  "  Rybin  extended  the 
invitation  to  Sofya. 

She  sat  down  on  the  stump  of  a  tree,  scrutinizing 
Rybin  seriously  and  attentively. 

"  When  did  they  take  him  ?  "  asked  Rybin,  sitting 
down  opposite  the  mother,  and  shaking  his  head. 
"  You've  bad  luck,  Nilovna." 

"Oh,  well!" 

''You're  getting  used  to  it?" 

''  I'm  not  used  to  it,  but  I  see  it's  not  to  be  helped." 

"  That's  right.     Well,  tell  us  the  story." 

Yefim  brought  a  pitcher  of  milk,  took  a  cup  from 
the  table,  rinsed  it  with  water,  and  after  filling  it  shoved 
it  across  the  table  to  Sofya.  He  moved  about  noiselessly, 
listening  to  the  mother's  narrative.  When  the  mother 
had  concluded  her  short  account,  all  were  silent  for  a 

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MOTHER 

moment,  looking  at  one  another.  Ignaty,  sitting  at  the 
table,  drew  a  pattern  with  his  nails  on  the  boards.  Yefim 
stood  behind  Rybin,  resting  his  elbows  on  his  shoulders. 
Yakob  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  his  hands 
folded  over  his  chest,  his  head  inclined.  Sofya  observed 
the  peasants  from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"  Yes,"  Rybin  drawled  sullenly.  "  That's  the  course 
of  action  they've  decided  on — to  go  out  openly." 

"  If  we  were  to  arrange  such  a  parade  here,"  said 
Yefim,  with  a  surly  smile,  "  they'd  hack  the  peasants  to 
death." 

'*  They  certainly  would,"  Ignaty  assented,  nodding 
his  head.    "  No,  I'll  go  to  the  factory.    It's  better  there." 

*'  You  say  Pavel's  going  to  be  tried  ?  "  asked  Rybin. 

"  Yes.     They've  decided  on  a  trial." 

**  Well,  what'll  he  get?    Have  you  heard?" 

"  Hard  labor,  or  exile  to  Siberia  for  life,"  answered 
the  mother  softly.  The  three  young  men  simultaneously 
turned  their  look  on  her,  and  Rybin,  lowering  his  head, 
asked   slowly: 

*'  And  wdien  he  got  this  affair  up,  did  he  know  what 
was  in  store  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  suppose  he  did." 

"  He   did,"   said   Sofya  aloud. 

All  were  silent,  motionless,  as  if  congealed  by  one 
cold   thought. 

"  So,"  continued  Rybin  slowly  and  gravely.  ''  I,  too, 
think  he  knew.  A  serious  man  looks  before  he  leaps. 
There,  boys,  you  see,  the  man  knew  that  he  might  be 
struck  with  a  bayonet,  or  exiled  to  hard  labor;  but  he 
went.  He  felt  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  go,  and  he 
went.  If  his  mother  had  lain  across  his  path,  he  would 
have  stepped  over  her  body  and  gone  his  way.  Wouldn't 
he  have  stepped  over  you,  Nilovna?" 

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MOTHER 

"  He  would,"  said  the  mother  shuddering  and  look- 
ing around.  She  heaved  a  heavy  sigh.  Sofya  silently 
stroked  her  hand. 

"  There's  a  man  for  you !  "  said  Rybin  in  a  subdued 
voice,  his  dark  eyes  roving  about  the  company.  They  all 
became  silent  again.  The  thin  rays  of  the  sun  trembled 
like  golden  ribbons  in  the  thick,  odorous  atmosphere. 
Somewhere  a  crow  cawed  with  bold  assurance.  The 
mother  looked  around,  troubled  by  her  recollections  of 
the  first  of  May,  and  grieving  for  her  son  and  Audrey. 

Broken  barrels  lay  about  in  confusion  in  the  small, 
crowded  glade.  Uprooted  stumps  stretched  out  their 
dead,  scraggy  roots,  and  chips  of  wood  littered  the 
ground.  Dense  oaks  and  birches  encircled  the  clearing, 
and  drooped  over  it  slightly  on  all  sides  as  if  desiring 
to  sweep  away  and  destroy  this  offensive  rubbish  and 
dirt. 

Suddenly  Yakob  moved  forward  from  the  tree, 
stepped  to  one  side,  stopped,  and  shaking  his  head  ob- 
served dryly: 

"  So,  when  we're  in  the  army  with  Yefim,  it's  on 
such  men  as  Pavel  Mikhaylovich  that  they'll  set  us." 

''  Against  whom  did  you  think  they'd  make  you  go?  " 
retorted  Rybin  glumly.  "  They  choke  us  with  our  own 
hands.     That's  where  the  jugglery  comes  in." 

"  I'll  join  the  army  all  the  same,"  announced  Yefim 
obstinately. 

"  Who's  trying  to  dissuade  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Ignaty. 
"  Go !  "  He  looked  Yefim  straight  in  the  face,  and  said 
with  a  smile :  ''  If  you're  going  to  shoot  at  me,  aim  at 
the  head.     Don't  just  wound  me ;  kill  me  at  once." 

"  I  hear  what  you're  saying,"  Yefim  replied  sharply. 

"  Listen,  boys,"  said  Rybin,  letting  his  glance  stray 
about  the  little  assembly  with  a  deliberate,  grave  gesture 

279 


MOTHER 

of  his  raised  hand.  "  Here's  a  woman,"  pointing  to  the 
mother,  ''  whose  son  is  surely  done  for  now." 

*'  Why  are  you  saying  this  ?  "  the  mother  asked  in  a 
low,  sorrowful  voice. 

''  It's  necessary,"  he  answered  sullenly.  "  It's  neces- 
sary that  your  hair  shouldn't  turn  gray  in  vain,  that 
your  heart  shouldn't  ache  for  nothing.  Behold,  boys ! 
She's  lost  her  son,  but  what  of  it?  Has  it  killed  her? 
Nilovna,   did  you  bring  books  ?  " 

The  mother  looked  at  him,  and  after  a  pause  said: 

"  I  did." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Rybin,  striking  the  table  with  the 
palm  of  his  hand.  **  I  knew  it  at  once  when  I  saw  you. 
Why  need  you  have  come  here,  if  not  for  that?"  He 
again  measured  the  young  men  with  his  eyes,  and  con- 
tinued, solemnly  knitting  his  eyebrows :  '*  Do  you  see  ? 
They  thrust  the  son  out  of  the  ranks,  and  the  mother 
drops  into  his  place." 

He  suddenly  struck  the  table  with  both  hands,  and 
straightening  himself  said  with  an  air  that  seemed  to 
augur  ill : 

'*  Those "  — here  he  fiung  out  a  terrible  oath — 

"  those  people  don't  know  what  their  blind  hands  are 
sowing.  They  will  know  when  our  power  is  complete 
and  we  begin  to  mow  down  their  cursed  grass.  They'll 
know  it  then !  " 

The  mother  was  frightened.  She  looked  at  him,  and 
saw  that  Mikhail's  face  had  changed  greatly.  He  had 
grown  thinner;  his  beard  was  roughened,  and  his  cheek 
bones  seemed  to  have  sharpened.  The  bluish  whites  of 
his  eyes  were  threaded  with  thin  red  fibers,  as  if  he  had 
gone  without  sleep  for  a  long  time.  His  nose,  less  fleshy 
than  formerly,  had  acquired  a  rapacious  crook.  His 
open,  tar-saturated  collar,  attached  to  a  shirt  that  had 

280 


MOTHER 

once  been  red,  exposed  his  dry  collar  bones  and  the  thick 
black  hair  on  his  breast.  About  his  whole  figure  there 
was  something  more  tragic  than  before.  Red  sparks 
seemed  to  fly  from  his  inflamed  eyes  and  light  the  lean, 
dark  face  with  the  fire  of  unconquerable,  melancholy 
rage.  Sofya  paled  and  was  silent,  her  gaze  riveted  on 
the  peasant.  Ignaty  shook  his  head  and  screwed  up  his 
eyes,  and  Yakob,  standing  at  the  wall  again,  angrily  tore 
splinters  from  the  boards  with  his  blackened  fingers. 
Yefim,  behind  the  mother,  slowly  paced  up  and  down 
along  the  length  of  the  table. 

"  The  other  day,"  continued  Rybin,  "  a  government 
official  called  me  up,  and,  says  he,  '  You  blackguard, 
what  did  you  say  to  the  priest  ? '  '  Why  am  I  a  black- 
guard ? '  I  say.  '  I  earn  my  bread  in  the  sweat  of  my 
brow,  and  I  don't  do  anything  bad  to  people.'  That's 
what  I  said.  He  bawled  out  at  me,  and  hit  me  in  the 
face.  For  three  days  and  three  nights  I  sat  in  the  lock- 
up." Rybin  grew  infuriated.  "  That's  the  way  you 
speak  to  the  people,  is  it?  "  he  cried.  "  Don't  expect  par- 
don, you  devils.  My  wrong  will  be  avenged,  if  not  by  me, 
then  by  another,  if  not  on  you,  then  on  your  children. 
Remember !  The  greed  in  your  breasts  has  harrowed  the 
people  with  iron  claws.  You  have  sowed  malice;  don't 
expect  mercy !  " 

The  wrath  in  Rybin  seethed  and  bubbled;  his  voice 
shook  with  sounds  that  frightened  the  mother. 

"  And  what  had  I  said  to  the  priest  ?  "  he  continued 
in  a  lighter  tone.  "  After  the  village  assembly  he  sits 
with  the  peasants  in  the  street,  and  tells  them  something. 
*  The  people  are  a  flock,'  says  he,  '  and  they  always  need 
a  shepherd.'  And  I  joke.  *  If,'  I  say,  '  they  make  the 
fox  the  chief  in  the  forest,  there'll  be  lots  of  feathers 
but  no  birds.'    He  looks  at  me  sidewise  and  speaks  about 

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MOTHER 

how  the  people  ought  to  be  patient  and  pray  more  to  God 
to  give  them  the  power  to  be  patient.  And  I  say  that 
the  people  pray,  but  evidently  God  has  no  time,  because 
he  doesn't  listen  to  them.  The  priest  begins  to  cavil 
with  me  as  to  what  prayers  I  pray.  I  tell  him  I  use  one 
prayer,  like  all  the  people,  *  O  Lord,  teach  the  masters 
to  carry  bricks,  eat  stones,  and  spit  wood.'  He  wouldn't 
even  let  me  finish  my  sentence.  — Are  you  a  lady  ?  " 
Rybin  asked  Sofya,  suddenly  breaking  off  his  story. 

''  Why  do  you  think  I'm  a  lady?  "  she  asked  quickly, 
startled  by  the  unexpectedness  of  his  question. 

"Why?"  laughed  Rybin.  "That's  the  star  under 
which  you  were  born.  That's  why.  You  think  a  chintz 
kerchief  can  conceal  the  blot  of  the  nobleman  from  the 
eyes  of  the  people?  We'll  recognize  a  priest  even  if 
he's  wrapped  in  sackcloth.  Here,  for  instance,  you  put 
your  elbows  on  a  wet  table,  and  you  started  and  frowned. 
Besides,  your  back  is  too  straight  for  a  working  woman." 

Fearing  he  would  insult  Sofya  with  his  heavy  voice 
and  his  raillery,  the  mother  said  quickly  and  sternly : 

"  She's  my  friend,  Mikhail  Ivanovich.  She's  a  good 
woman.  Working  in  this  movement  has  turned  her  hair 
gray.    You're  not  very " 

Rybin  fetched  a  deep  breath. 

"Why,  was  what  I  said  insulting?" 

"  Sofya  looked  at  him  dryly  and  queried : 

"  You  wanted  to  say  something  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Not  long  ago  a  new  man  came  here,  a  cousin 
of  Yakob.  He's  sick  with  consumption ;  but  he's  learned 
a  thing  or  two.     Shall  we  call  him  ?  " 

"  Call  him!    Why  not?"  answered  Sofya. 

Rybin  looked  at  her,  screwing  up  his  eyes. 

"  Yefim,"  he  said  in  a  lowered  voice,  "  you  go  over 
to  him,  and  tell  him  to  come  here  in  the  evening." 

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MOTHER 

Yefim  went  into  the  shack  to  get  his  cap ;  then  silently, 
without  looking  at  anybody,  he  walked  off  at  a  leisurely 
pace  and  disappeared  in  the  woods.  Rybin  nodded  his 
head  in  the  direction  he  was  going,  saying  dully: 

"  He's  suffering  torments.  He's  stubborn.  He  has 
to  go  into  the  army,  he  and  Yakob,  here.  Yakob  simply 
says,  '  I  can't.'  And  that  fellow  can't  either ;  but  he 
wants  to;  he  has  an  object  in  view.  He  thinks  he  can 
stir  the  soldiers.  My  opinion  is,  you  can't  break  through 
a  wall  with  your  forehead.  Bayonets  in  their  hands,  off 
they  go — where?  They  don't  see — they're  going  against 
themselves.  Yes,  he's  suffering.  And  Ignaty  worries 
him  uselessly." 

"  No,  not  at  all !  "  said  Ignaty.  He  knit  his  eyebrows, 
and  kept  his  eyes  turned  away  from  Rybin.  **  They'll 
change  him,  and  he'll  become  just  like  all  the  other  sol- 
diers." 

"  No,  hardly,"  Rybin  answered  meditatively.  "  But, 
of  course,  it's  better  to  run  away  from  the  army.  Russia 
is  large.  Where  will  you  find  the  fellow  ?  He  gets  him- 
self a  passport,  and  goes  from  village  to  village." 

"  That's  what  I'm  going  to  do,  too,"  remarked  Yakob, 
tapping  his  foot  with  a  chip  of  wood.  "  Once  you've 
made  up  your  mind  to  go  against  the  government,  go 
straight." 

The  conversation  dropped  off.  The  bees  and  wasps 
circled  busily  around  humming  in  the  stifling  atmosphere. 
The  birds  chirped,  and  somewhere  at  a  distance  a  song 
was  heard  straying  through  the  fields.  After  a  pause 
Rybin  said: 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  get  to  work.     Do  you  want  to 
rest  ?    There  are  boards  inside  the  shanty.    Pick  up  some 
dry  leaves  for  them,  Yakob.    And  you,  mother,  give  us 
the  books.    Where  are  they  ?  " 
19  283 


MOTHER 

The  mother  and  Sofya  began  to  untie  their  sacks. 
Rybin  bent  down  over  them,  and  said  with  satisfaction : 

''  That's  it !  Well,  well — not  a  few,  I  see.  Have 
you  been  in  this  business  a  long  time?  What's  your 
name  ?  "  he  turned  toward  Sofya. 

**  Anna  Ivanovna.     Twelve  years.     Why?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Have  you  been  in  prison  ?  " 

"I  have." 

He  was  silent,  taking  a  pile  of  books  in  his  hand,  and 
said  to  her,  showing  his  teeth : 

"  Don't  take  offense  at  the  way  I  speak.  A  peasant 
and  a  nobleman  are  like  tar  and  water.  It's  hard  for 
them  to  mix.     They  jump  away  from  each  other." 

"  I'm  not  a  lady.  I'm  a  human  being,"  Sofya  re- 
torted with  a  quiet  laugh. 

"  That  may  be.  It's  hard  for  me  to  believe  it ;  but 
they  say  it  happens.  They  say  that  a  dog  was  once  a 
wolf.    Now  I'll  hide  these  books." 

Ignaty  and  Yakob  walked  up  to  him,  and  both 
stretched  out  their  hands. 

"  Give  us  some." 

"Are  they  all  the  same?"  Rybin  asked  of  Sofya. 

"  No,  they're  different.  There's  a  newspaper  here, 
too." 

'*Oh!" 

The  three  men  quickly  walked  into  the  shack. 

"  The  peasant  is  on  fire,"  said  the  mother  in  a  low 
voice,  looking  after  Rybin  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sofya.  *'  I've  never  seen  such  a 
face  as  his — such  a  martyrlike  face.  Let's  go  inside, 
too.    I  want  to  look  at  them." 

When  the  women  reached  the  door  they  found  the 
men  already  engrossed  in  the  newspapers.     Ignaty  was 

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MOTHER 

sitting  on  the  board,  the  newspaper  sprea^.  on  his  knees, 
and  his  fingers  run  through  his  hair.  He  raised  his  head, 
gave  the  women  a  rapid  glance,  and  bent  over  his  paper 
again.  Rybin  was  standing  to  let  the  ray  of  sun  that 
penetrated  a  chink  in  the  roof  fall  on  his  paper.  He 
moved  his  lips  as  he  read.  Ignaty  read  kneeling,  with 
his  breast  against  the  edge  of  the  board. 

Sofya  felt  the  eagerness  of  the  men  for  the  word  of 
truth.  Her  face  brightened  with  a  joyful  smile.  Walk- 
ing carefully  over  to  a  corner,  she  sat  down  next  to  the 
mother,  her  arm  on  the  mother's  shoulder,  and  gazed 
about  silently. 

"  Uncle  Mikhail,  they're  rough  on  us  peasants,"  mut- 
tered Yakob  without  turning. 

Rybin  looked  around  at  him,  and  answered  with  a 
smile : 

"  For  love  of  us.  He  who  loves  does  not  insult,  no 
matter  what  he  says." 

Ignaty  drew  a  deep  breath,  raised  his  head,  smiled 
satirically,  and  closing  his  eyes  said  with  a  scowl : 

"  Here  it  says :  '  The  peasant  has  ceased  to  be  a  hu- 
man being.'  Of  course  he  has."  Over  his  simple,  open 
face  glided  a  shadow  of  offense.  "  Well,  try  to  wear 
my  skin  for  a  day  or  so,  and  turn  around  in  it,  and  then 
we'll  see  what  you'll  be  like,  you  wiseacre,  you ! " 

"  I'm  going  to  lie  down,"  said  the  mother  quietly. 
"  I  got  tired,  after  all.  My  head  is  going  around.  And 
you  ?  "  she  asked  Sofya. 

"  I  don't  want  to." 

The  mother  stretched  herself  on  the  board  and  soon 
fell  asleep.  Sofya  sat  over  her  looking  at  the  people 
reading.  When  the  bees  buzzed  about  the  mother's  face, 
she  solicitously  drove  them  away. 

Rybin  came  up  and  asked: 

28s 


MOTHER 

"  Is  she  asleep?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looked  fixedly  at  the 
calm  sleeping  face,  and  said  softly : 

*'  She  is  probably  the  first  mother  who  has  followed 
in  the  footsteps  of  her  son — the  first." 

"  Let's  not  disturb  her ;  let's  go  away,"  suggested 
Sofya. 

"  Well,  we  have  to  work.  I'd  like  to  have  a  chat  with 
you  ;   but  we'll  put  it  off  until  evening.    Come,  boys." 


CHAPTER   IV 

HE  three  men  walked  away,  leaving  Sofya 
in  the  cabin.  Then  from  a  distance  came 
the  sound  of  the  ax  blows,  the  echo  stray- 
ing through  the  foliage.  In  a  half-dreamy 
condition  of  repose,  intoxicated  with  the 
spicy  odor  of  the  forest,  Sofya  sat  just  outside  the  door, 
humming  a  song,  and  watching  the  approach  of  evening, 
which  gradually  enfolded  the  forest.  Her  gray  eyes 
smiled  softly  at  some  one.  The  reddening  rays  of  the  suii 
fell  more  and  more  aslant.  The  busy  chirping  of  the  birds 
died  away.  The  forest  darkened,  and  seemed  to  grow 
denser.  The  trees  moved  in  more  closely  about  the 
choked-up  glade,  and  gave  it  a  more  friendly  embrace, 
covering  it  with  shadows.  Cows  were  lowing  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  tar  men  came,  all  four  together,  content  that 
the  work  was  ended. 

Awakened  by  their  voices  the  mother  walked  out  from 
the  cabin,  yawning  and  smiling.  Rybin  was  calmer  and 
less  gloomy.  The  surplus  of  his  excitement  was  drowned 
I  in  exhaustion. 

*'  Ignaty,"  he  said,  "  let's  have  our  tea.  We  do  house- 
keeping here  by  turns.  To-day  Ignaty  provides  us  with 
food  and  drink." 

"  To-day  I'd  be  glad  to  yield  my  turn,"  remarked 
Ignaty,  gathering  up  pieces  of  wood  and  branches  for 
an  open-air  fire. 

*'  We're  all  interested  in  our  guests,"  said  Yefim,  sit- 
ting down  by  Sofya's  side. 

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MOTHER 

"  ril  help  you/'  said  Yakob  softly. 

He  brought  out  a  big  loaf  of  bread  baked  in  hot  ashes, 
and  began  to  cut  it  and  place  the  pieces  on  the  table. 

*'  Listen !  "  exclaimed  Yefim.  "  Do  you  hear  that 
cough?  " 

Rybin   listened,   and  nodded. 

"  Yes,  he's  coming,"  he  said  to  Sofya.  "  The  witness 
is  coming.  I  would  lead  him  through  cities,  put  him  in 
public  squares,  for  the  people  to  hear  him.  He  always 
says  the  same  thing.     But  everybody  ought  to  hear  it." 

The  shadows  grew  closer,  the  twilight  thickened,  and 
the  voices  sounded  softer.  Sofya  and  the  mother 
watched  the  actions  of  the  peasants.  They  all  moved 
slowly  and  heavily  with  a  strange  sort  of  cautiousness. 
They,  too,  constantly  followed  the  women  with  their 
eyes,  listening  attentively  to  their  conversation. 

A  tall,  stooping  man  came  out  of  the  woods  into  the 
glade,  and  walked  slowly,  firmly  supporting  himself  on 
a  cane.     His  heavy,  raucous  breathing  was  audible. 

"  There  is  Savely !  "  exclaimed  Yakob. 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  man  hoarsely.  He  stopped, 
and  began  to  cough. 

A  shabby  coat  hung  over  him  down  to  his  very  heels. 
From  under  his  round,  crumpled  hat  straggled  thin,  limp 
tufts  of  dry,  straight,  yellowish  hair.  His  light,  sparse 
beard  grew  unevenly  upon  his  yellow,  bony  face ;  his 
mouth  stood  half-open ;  his  eyes  were  sunk  deep  beneath 
his  forehead,  and  glittered  feverishly  in  their  dark 
hollows. 

When  Rybin  introduced  him  to  Sofya  he  said  to  her : 

"  I  heard  you  brought  books  for  the  people." 

"  I  did." 

"  Thank  you  in  the  name  of  the  people.  They  them- 
selves cannot  yet  understand  the  book  of  truth.     They 

288 


MOTHER 

cannot  yet  thank ;  so  I,  who  have  learned  to  understand  it, 
render  you  thanks  in  their  behalf."  He  breathed  quickly, 
with  short,  eager  breaths,  strangely  drawing  in  the  air 
through  his  dry  lips.  His  voice  broke.  The  bony  fingers 
of  his  feeble  hands  crept  along  his  breast  trying  to  button 
his  coat. 

"  It's  bad  for  you  to  be  in  the  woods  so  late ;  it's  damp 
and  close  here,"  remarked  Sofya. 

"  Nothing  is  good  for  me  any  more,"  he  answered, 
out  of  breath.    "  Only  death !  " 

It  was  painful  to  listen  to  him.  His  entire  figure  in- 
spired a  futile  pity  that  recognized  its  own  powerlessness, 
and  gave  way  to  a  sullen  feeling  of  discomfort. 

The  wood  pile  blazed  up ;  everything  round  about 
trembled  and  shook;  the  scorched  shadows  flung  them- 
selves into  the  woods  in  fright.  The  round  face  of 
Ignaty  with  its  inflated  cheeks  shone  over  the  fire.  The 
flames  died  down,  and  the  air  began  to  smell  of  smoke. 
Again  the  trees  seemed  to  draw  close  and  unite  with  the 
mist  on  the  glade,  listening  in  strained  attention  to  the 
hoarse  words  of  the  sick  man. 

"  But  as  a  witness  of  the  crime,  I  can  still  bring  good 
to  the  people.  Look  at  me !  I'm  twenty-eight  years  old ; 
but  I'm  dying.  About  ten  years  ago  I  could  lift  five 
hundred  pounds  on  my  shoulders  without  an  efifort. 
With  such  strength  I  thought  I  could  go  on  for  seventy 
years  without  dropping  into  the  grave,  and  I've  lived  for 
only  ten  years,  and  can't  go  on  any  more.  The  masters 
have  robbed  me ;  they've  torn  forty  years  of  my  life  from 
me;  they've  stolen  forty  years  from  me." 

"  There,  that's  his  song,"  said  Rybin  dully. 

The  fire  blazed  up  again,  but  now  it  was  stronger  and 
more  vivid.  Again  the  shadows  leaped  into  the  woods, 
and  again  darted  back  to  the  fire,  quivering  about  it  in 

289 


MOTHER 

a  mute,  astonished  dance.  The  wood  crackled,  and  the 
leaves  of  the  trees  rustled  softly.  Alarmed  by  the  waves 
of  the  heated  atmosphere,  the  merry,  vivacious  tongues 
of  fire,  yellow  and  red,  in  sportive  embrace,  soared  aloft, 
sowing  sparks.  The  burning  leaves  flew,  and  the  stars 
in  the  sky  smiled  to  the  sparks,  luring  them  up  to  them- 
selves. 

"  That's  not  my  song.  Thousands  of  people  sing 
it.  But  they  sing  it  to  themselves,  not  realizing  what  a 
salutary  lesson  their  unfortunate  lives  hold  for  all.  How 
many  men,  tormented  to  death  by  work,  miserable  crip- 
ples, maimed,  die  silently  from  hunger!  It  is  necessary 
to  shout  it  aloud,  brothers,  it  is  necessary  to  shout  it 
aloud !  "  He  fell  into  a  fit  of  coughing,  bending  and  all 
a-shiver. 

"  Why?  "  asked  Yefim.  "  My  misery  is  my  own  af- 
fair.   Just  look  at  my  joy." 

"  Don't  interrupt,"  Rybin  admonished. 

''  You  yourself  said  a  man  mustn't  boast  of  his  mis- 
fortune," observed  Yefim  with  a  frown. 

*'  That's  a  different  thing.  Savely's  misfortune  is 
a  general  affair,  not  merely  his  own.  It's  very  different," 
said  Rybin  solemnly.  "  Here  you  have  a  man  who  has 
gone  down  to  the  depths  and  been  suffocated.  Now  he 
shouts  to  the  world,  '  Look  out,  don't  go  there ! '  " 

Yakob  put  a  pail  of  cider  on  the  table,  dropped  a  bun- 
dle of  green  branches,  and  said  to  the  sick  man : 

*'  Come,  Savely,  I've  brought  you  some  milk." 

Savely  shook  his  head  in  declination,  but  Yakob  took 
him  under  the  arm,  lifted  him,  and  made  him  walk  to  the 
table. 

"  Listen,"  said  Sofya  softly  to  Rybin.  She  was 
troubled  and  reproached  him.  "  Why  did  you  invite 
him  here?     He  may  die  any  minute." 

290 


MOTHBR 

"  He  may,"  retorted  Rybin.  "  Let  him  die  among 
people.  That's  easier  than  to  die  alone.  In  the  mean- 
time let  him  speak.  He  lost  his  life  for  trifles.  Let  him 
suffer  a  little  longer  for  the  sake  of  the  people.  It's  all 
right !  " 

*'  You  seem  to  take  particular  delight  in  it,"  ex- 
claimed Sofya. 

"  It's  the  masters  who  take  pleasure  in  Christ  as  he 
groans  on  the  cross.  But  what  we  want  is  to  learn  from 
a  man,  and  make  you  learn  something,  too." 

At  the  table  the  sick  man  began  to  speak  again : 

"  They  destroy  lives  with  work.  What  for  ?  They 
rob  men  of  their  lives.  What  for,  I  ask  ?  My  master — 
I  lost  my  life  in  the  textile  mill  of  Nefidov — my  master 
presented  one  prima  donna  with  a  golden  wash  basin. 
Every  one  of  her  toilet  articles  was  gold.  That  basin 
holds  my  life-blood,  my  very  life.  That's  for  what  my 
life  went !  A  man  killed  me  with  work  in  order  to  com- 
fort his  mistress  with  my  blood.  He  bought  her  a  gold 
wash  basin  with  my  blood." 

"  Man  is  created  in  the  image  of  God,"  said  Yefim, 
smiling.  "  And  that's  the  use  to  which  they  put  the 
image.     Fine !  " 

"  Well,  then  don't  be  silent !  "  exclaimed  Rybin,  strik- 
ing his  palm  on  the  table. 

"  Don't  suffer  it,"  added  Yakob  softly. 

Ignaty  laughed.  The  mother  observed  that  all  three 
men  spoke  little,  but  listened  with  the  insatiable  attention 
of  hungry  souls,  and  every  time  that  Rybin  spoke  they 
looked  into  his  face  with  watchful  eyes.  Savely's  talk 
produced  a  strange,  sharp  smile  on  their  faces.  No 
feeling  of  pity  for  the  sick  man  was  to  be  detected  in 
their  manner. 

Bending  toward  Sofya  the  mother  whispered: 
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MOTHER 

"  Is  it  possible  that  what  he  says  is  true?^* 

Sofya  answered  aloud: 

**  Yes,  it's  true.  The  newspapers  tell  about  such 
gifts.     It  happened  in  Moscow." 

"  And  the  man  wasn't  executed  for  it  ? "  asked 
Rybin  dully.  "  But  he  should  have  been  executed,  he 
should  have  been  led  out  before  the  people  and  torn  to 
pieces.  His  vile,  dirty  flesh  should  have  been  thrown 
to  the  dogs.  The  people  will  perform  great  execu- 
tions when  once  they  arise.  They'll  shed  much  blood 
to  wash  away  their  wrongs.  This  blood  is  theirs ; 
it  has  been  drained  from  their  veins ;  they  are  its 
masters." 

"  It's  cold,"  said  the  sick  man.  Yakob  helped  him  to 
rise,  and  led  him  to  the  fire. 

The  wood  pile  burned  evenly  and  glaringly,  and  the 
faceless  shadows  quivered  around  it.  Savely  sat  down  on 
a  stump,  and  stretched  his  dry,  transparent  hands  toward 
the  fire,  coughing.  Rybin  nodded  his  head  to  one  side, 
and  said  to  Sofya  in  an  undertone:  ^ 

"  That's  sharper  than  books.  That  ought  to  be 
known.  When  they  tear  a  workingman's  hand  in  a  ma- 
chine or  kill  him,  you  can  understand — the  workingman 
himself  is  at  fault.  But  in  a  case  like  this,  when  they 
suck  a  man's  blood  out  of  him  and  throw  him  away  like 
a  carcass — that  can't  be  explained  in  any  way.  I  can 
comprehend  every  murder;  but  torturing  for  mere  sport 
I  can't  comprehend.  And  why  do  they  torture  the  peo- 
ple ?  To  what  purpose  do  they  torture  us  all  ?  For  fun, 
for  mere  amusement,  so  that  they  can  live  pleasantly  on 
the  earth ;  so  that  they  can  buy  everything  with  the  blood 
of  the  people,  a  prima  donna,  horses,  silver  knives,  golden 
dishes,  expensive  toys  for  their  children.  You  work, 
work,    work,    work    more    and    more,    and    I'll    hoard 

292 


MOTHER 

money  by  your  labor  and  give  my  mistress  a  golden 
wash  basin." 

The  mother  listened,  looked,  and  once  again,  before 
her  in  the  darkness,  stretched  the  bright  streak  of  the 
road  that  Pavel  was  going,  and  all  those  with  whom  he 
walked. 

When  they  had  concluded  their  supper,  they  sat 
around  the  fire,  which  consumed  the  wood  quickly.  Be- 
hind them  hung  the  darkness,  embracing  forest  and  sky. 
The  sick  man  with  wide-open  eyes  looked  into  the  fire, 
coughed  incessantly,  and  shivered  all  over.  The  rem- 
nants of  his  life  seemed  to  be  tearing  themselves  from 
his  bosom  impatiently,  hastening  to  forsake  the  dry  body, 
drained  by  sickness. 

*'  Maybe  you'd  better  go  into  the  shanty,  Savely  ?  " 
Yakob  asked,  bending  over  him. 

"  Why?  "  he  answered  with  an  effort.  "  I'll  sit  here. 
I  haven't  much  time  left  to  stay  with  people,  very  little 
time."  He  paused,  let  his  eyes  rove  about  the  entire 
group,  then  with  a  pale  smile,  continued :  *'  I  feel  good 
when  I'm  with  you.  I  look  at  you,  and  think,  '  Maybe 
you  will  avenge  the  wrongs  of  all  who  were  robbed,  of 
all  the  people  destroyed  because  of  greed.' " 

No  one  replied,  and  he  soon  fell  into  a  doze,  his  head 
limply  hanging  over  his  chest.  Rybin  looked  at  him, 
and  said  in  a  dull  voice : 

"  He  comes  to  us,  sits  here,  and  always  speaks  of  the 
same  thing,  of  this  mockery  of  man.  This  is  his  entire 
soul ;  he  feels  nothing  else." 

"What  more  do  you  want?"  said  the  mother 
thoughtfully.  *'  If  people  are  killed  by  the  thousands 
day  after  day  working  so  that  their  masters  may  throw 
money  away  for  sport,  what  else  do  you  want?  " 

"  It's  endlessly  wearying  to  listen  to  him,"  said  Ig- 
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MOTHER 

naty  in  a  low  voice.  "  When  you  hear  this  sort  of  thing 
once,  you  never  forget  it,  and  he  keeps  harping  on  it  all 
the  time." 

"  But  everything  is  crowded  into  this  one  thing.  It's 
his  entire  life,  remember,"  remarked  Rybin  sullenly. 

The  sick  man  turned,  opened  his  eyes,  and  lay  down 
on  the  ground.  Yakob  rose  noiselessly,  walked  into  the 
cabin,  brought  out  two  short  overcoats,  and  wrapped 
them  about  his  cousin.    Then  he  sat  down  beside  Sofya. 

The  merry,  ruddy  face  of  the  fire  smiled  irritatingly 
as  it  illumined  the  dark  figures  about  it;  and  the  voices 
blended  mournfully  with  the  soft  rustle  and  crackle  of 
the  flames. 

Sofya  began  to  tell  about  the  universal  struggle  of 
the  people  for  the  right  to  life,  about  the  conflicts  of  the 
German  peasants  in  the  olden  times,  about  the  misfor- 
tunes of  the  Irish,  about  the  great  exploits  of  the  work- 
ingmen  of  France  in  their  frequent  battling  for  freedom. 

In  the  forest  clothed  in  the  velvet  of  night,  in  the  little 
glade  bounded  by  the  dumb  trees,  before  the  sportive 
face  of  the  fire,  the  events  that  shook  the  world  rose  to 
life  again ;  one  nation  of  the  earth  after  the  other  passed 
in  review,  drained  of  its  blood,  exhausted  by  combats ; 
the  names  of  the  great  soldiers  for  freedom  and  truth 
were  recalled. 

The  somewhat  dull  voice  of  the  woman  seemed  to 
echo  softly  from  the  remoteness  of  the  past.  It  aroused 
hope,  it  carried  conviction;  and  the  company  listened  in 
silence  to  its  music,  to  the  great  story  of  their  brethren 
in  spirit.  They  looked  into  her  face,  lean  and  pale,  and 
smiled  in  response  to  the  smile  of  her  gray  eyes.  Before 
them  the  cause  of  all  the  people  of  the  world,  the  end- 
less war  for  freedom  and  equality,  became  more  vivid 
and  assumed  a  greater  holiness.    They  saw  their  desires 

294 


MOTHER 

and  thoughts  in  the  distance,  overhung  with  the  dark, 
bloody  curtain  of  the  past,  amid  strangers  unknown  to 
them;  and  inwardly,  both  in  mind  and  heart,  they  be- 
came united  with  the  world,  seeing  in  it  friends  even  in 
olden  times,  friends  who  had  unanimously  resolved  to 
obtain  right  upon  the  earth,  and  had  consecrated  their 
resolve  with  measureless  suffering,  and  shed  rivers  of 
their  own  blood.  With  this  blood,  mankind  dedicated 
itself  to  a  new  life,  bright  and  cheerful.  A  feeling  arose 
and  grew  of  the  spiritual  nearness  of  each  unto  each. 
A  new  heart  was  born  on  the  earth,  full  of  hot  striving  to 
embrace  all  and  to  unite  all  in  itself. 

"  A  day  is  coming  when  the  workingmen  of  all  coun- 
tries will  raise  their  heads,  and  firmly  declare,  '  Enough ! 
We  want  no  more  of  this  life.'  "  Sofya's  low  but  power- 
ful voice  rang  with  assurance.  "  And  then  the  fantastic 
power  of  those  who  are  mighty  by  their  greed  will  crum- 
ble ;  the  earth  will  vanish  from  under  their  feet,  and  their 
support  will  be  gone." 

"  That's  how  it  will  be,"  said  Rybin,  bending  his  head. 
"  Don't  pity  yourselves,  and  you  will  conquer  every- 
thing." 

The  men  listened  in  silence,  motionless,  endeavoring 
in  no  way  to  break  the  even  flow  of  the  narrative,  fearing 
to  cut  the  bright  thread  that  bound  them  to  the  world. 
Only  occasionally  some  one  would  carefully  put  a  piece 
of  wood  in  the  fire,  and  when  a  stream  of  sparks  and 
smoke  rose  from  the  pile  he  would  drive  them  away  from 
the  woman  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

Once  Yakob  rose  and  said : 

"Wait  a  moment,  please."  He  ran  into  the  shack 
and  brought  out  wraps.  With  Ignaty's  help  he  folded 
them  about  the  shoulders  and  feet  of  the  women. 

And  again  Sofya  spoke,  picturing  the  day  of  victory, 
295 


MOTHER 

inspiring  people  with  faith  in  their  power,  arousing  in 
them  a  consciousness  of  their  oneness  with  all  who  give 
away  their  lives  to  barren  toil  for  the  amusement  of  the 
satiated. 

At  break  of  dawn,  exhausted,  she  grew  silent,  and 
smiling  she  looked  around  at  the  thoughtful,  illumined 
faces. 

"  It's  time  for  us  to  go,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Yes,  it's  time,"  said  Sofya  wearily. 

Some  one  breathed  a  noisy  sigh. 

"  I  am  sorry  you're  going,"  said  Rybin  in  an  unusu- 
ally mild  tone.  "  You  speak  well.  This  great  cause  will 
unite  people.  When  you  know  that  millions  want  the 
same  as  you  do,  your  heart  becomes  better,  and  in  good- 
ness there  is  great  power." 

"  You  offer  goodness,  and  get  the  stake  in  return," 
said  Yefim  with  a  low  laugh,  and  quickly  jumped  to  his 
feet.  "  But  they  ought  to  go,  Uncle  Mikhail,  before  any- 
body sees  them.  We'll  distribute  the  books  among  the 
people;  the  authorities  will  begin  to  wonder  where  they 
came  from ;  then  some  one  will  remember  having  seen  the 
pilgrims  here." 

"  Well,  thank  you,  mother,  for  your  trouble,"  said 
Rybin,  interrupting  Yefim.  "  I  always  think  of  Pavel 
when  I  look  at  you,  and  you've  gone  the  right  way." 

He  stood  before  the  mother,  softened,  with  a  broad, 
good-natured  smile  on  his  face.  The  atmosphere  was 
raw,  but  he  wore  only  one  shirt,  his  collar  was  unbut- 
toned, and  his  breast  was  bared  low.  The  mother  looked 
at  his  large  figure,  and  smiling  also,  advised : 

"  You'd  better  put  on  something ;  it's  cold." 

"  There's  a  fire  inside  of  me." 

The  three  young  men  standing  at  the  burning  pile 
conversed  in  a  low  voice.    At  their  feet  the  sick  man  lay 

296 


MOTHER 

as  if  dead,  covered  with  the  short  fur  coats.  The  sky 
paled,  the  shadows  dissolved,  the  leaves  shivered  softly, 
awaiting  the  sun. 

"  Well,  then,  we  must  say  good-by,"  said  Rybin, 
pressing  Sofya's  hand.  "  How  are  you  to  be  found  in 
the  city?" 

"  You  must  look  for  me,"  said  the  mother. 

The  young  men  in  a  close  group  walked  up  to  Sofya, 
and  silently  pressed  her  hand  with  awkward  kindness. 
In  each  of  them  was  evident  grateful  and  friendly  satis- 
faction, though  they  attempted  to  conceal  the  feeling 
which  apparently  embarrassed  them  by  its  novelty. 
Smiling  with  eyes  dry  with  the  sleepless  night,  they 
looked  in  silence  into  Sofya's  eyes,  shifting  from  one  foot 
to  the  other. 

"  Won't  you  drink  some  milk  before  you  go  ?  "  asked 
Yakob. 

"  Is  there  any  ?  "  queried  Yefim. 

"  There's  a  little." 

Ignaty,  stroking  his  hair  in  confusion,  announced: 

"  No,  there  isn't ;  I  spilled  it." 

All  three  laughed.  They  spoke  about  milk,  but  the 
mother  and  Sofya  felt  that  they  were  thinking  of  some- 
thing else,  and  without  words  were  wishing  them  well. 
This  touched  Sofya,  and  produced  in  her,  too,  embar- 
rassment and  modest  reserve,  which  prevented  her  from 
saying  anything  more  than  a  quiet  and  warm  "  Thank 
you,  comrades." 

They  exchanged  glances,  as  if  the  word  "  comrade  " 
had  given  them  a  mild  shock.  The  dull  cough  of  the 
sick  man  was  heard.  The  embers  of  the  burning  wood- 
pile died  out. 

"  Good-by,"  the  peasants  said  in  subdued  tones ;  and 
the  sad  word  rang  in  the  women's  ears  a  long  time. 

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MOTHER 

They  walked  without  haste,  in  the  twiUght  of  the 
dawn,  along  the  wood  path.  The  mother  striding  be- 
hind Sofya  said : 

"  All  this  is  good,  just  as  in  a  dream — so  good !  Peo- 
ple want  to  know  the  truth,  my  dear ;  yes,  they  want  to 
know  the  truth.  It's  like  being  in  a  church  on  the  morn- 
ing of  a  great  holiday,  when  the  priest  has  not  yet  ar- 
rived, and  it's  dark  and  quiet;  then  it's  raw,  and  the 
people  are  already  gathering.  Here  the  candles  are 
lighted  before  the  images,  and  there  the  lamps  are  lighted ; 
and  little  by  little,  they  drive  away  the  darkness,  illumin- 
ing the  House  of  God." 

"  True,"  answered  Sofya.  "  Only  here  the  House  of 
God  is  the  whole  earth." 

"  The  whole  earth,"  the  mother  repeated,  shaking  her 
head  thoughtfully.  "  It's  so  good  that  it's  hard  to  be- 
lieve." 

They  walked  and  talked  about  Rybin,  about  the  sick 
man,  about  the  young  peasants  who  were  so  attentively 
silent,  and  who  so  awkwardly  but  eloquently  expressed 
a  feeling  of  grateful  friendship  by  little  attentions  to  the 
women.  They  came  out  into  the  open  field ;  the  sun  rose 
to  meet  them.  As  yet  invisible,  he  spread  out  over  the 
sky  a  transparent  fan  of  rosy  rays,  and  the  dewdrops  in 
the  grass  glittered  with  the  many-colored  gems  of  brave 
spring  joy.  The  birds  awoke  fresh  from  their  slumber, 
vivifying  the  morning  with  their  merry,  impetuous  voices. 
The  crows  flew  about  croaking,  and  flapping  their  wings 
heavily.  The  black  rooks  jumped  about  in  the  winter 
wheat,  conversing  in  abrupt  accents.  Somewhere  the 
orioles  whistled  mournfully,  a  note  of  alarm  in  their  song. 
The  larks  sang,  soaring  up  to  meet  the  sun.  The  dis- 
tance opened  up,  the  nocturnal  shadows  lifting  from  the 
hills. 

298 


MOTHER 

"  Sometimes  a  man  will  speak  and  speak  to  you,  and 
you  won't  understand  him  until  he  succeeds  in  telling  you 
some  simple  word;  and  this  one  word  will  suddenly 
lighten  up  everything,"  the  mother  said  thoughtfully. 
"  There's  that  sick  man,  for  instance ;  I've  heard  and 
known  myself  how  the  workingmen  in  the  factories  and 
everywhere  are  squeezed ;  but  you  get  used  to  it  from 
childhood  on,  and  it  doesn't  touch .  your  heart  much. 
But  he  suddenly  tells  you  such  an  outrageous,  vile  thing ! 

0  Lord!  Can  it  be  that  people  give  their  whole  lives 
away  to  work  in  order  that  the  masters  may  permit  them- 
selves pleasure?    That's  without  justification." 

The  thoughts  of  the  mother  were  arrested  by  this 
fact.  Its  dull,  impudent  gleam  threw  light  upon  a 
series  of  similar  facts,  at  one  time  known  to  her,  but 
now  forgotten. 

"  It's  evident  that  they  are  satiated  with  everything. 

1  know  one  country  officer  who  compelled  the  peasants 
to  salute  his  horse  when  it  was  led  through  the  village ; 
and  he  arrested  everyone  who  failed  to  salute  it.  Now, 
what  need  had  he  of  that?  It's  impossible  to  under- 
stand." After  a  pause  she  sighed:  **  The  poor  people 
are  stupid  from  poverty,  and  the  rich  from  greed." 

Sofya  began  to  hum  a  song  bold  as  the  morning. 


20 


CHAPTER   V 


HE  life  of  Nilovna  flowed  on  with  strange 
placidity.  This  calmness  sometimes  aston- 
ished her.  There  was  her  son  immured  in 
prison.  She  knew  that  a  severe  sentence 
awaited  him,  yet  every  time  the  idea  of  It 
came  to  her  mind  her  thoughts  strayed  to  Andrey,  Fedya, 
and  an  endless  series  of  other  people  she  had  never  seen, 
but  only  heard  of.  The  figure  of  her  son  appeared  to  her 
absorbing  all  the  people  into  his  own  destiny.  The  con- 
templative feeling  aroused  in  her  involuntarily  and  un- 
noticeably  diverted  her  inward  gaze  away  from  him  to  all 
sides.  Like  thin,  uneven  rays  it  touched  upon  everything, 
tried  to  throw  light  everywhere,  and  make  one  picture  of 
the  whole.  Her  mind  was  hindered  from  dwelling  upon 
some  one  thing. 

Sofya  soon  went  off  somewhere,  and  reappeared  in 
about  five  days,  merry  and  vivacious.  Then,  in  a  few 
hours,  she  vanished  again,  and  returned  within  a  couple 
of  weeks.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  borne  along  in  life 
in  wide  circles. 

Nikolay,  always  occupied,  lived  a  monotonous, 
methodical  existence.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning 
he  drank  tea,  read  the  newspapers,  and  recounted  the 
news  to  the  mother.  He  repeated  the  speeches  of  the 
merchants  in  the  Douma  without  malice,  and  clearly  de- 
picted the  life  in  the  city. 

300 


MOTHER 

Listening  to  him  the  mother  saw  with  transparent 
clearness  the  mechanism  of  this  Hfe  pitilessly  grinding 
the  people  in  the  millstones  of  money.  At  nine  o'clock 
he  went  off  to  the  office. 

She  tidied  the  rooms,  prepared  dinner,  washed  herself, 
put  on  a  clean  dress,  and  then  sat  in  her  room  to  examine 
the  pictures  and  the  books.  She  had  already  learned  to 
read,  but  the  effort  of  reading  quickly  exhausted  her ;  and 
she  ceased  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  words.  But 
the  pictures  were  a  constant  astonishment  to  her.  They 
opened  up  before  her  a  clear,  almost  tangible  world  o£ 
new  and  marvelous  things.  Huge  cities  arose  before  her, 
beautiful  structures,  machines,  ships,  monuments,  and 
infinite  wealth,  created  by  the  people,  overwhelming  the 
mind  by  the  variety  of  nature's  products.  Life  widened 
endlessly;  each  day  brought  some  new,  huge  wonders. 
The  awakened  hungry  soul  of  the  woman  was  more  and 
more  strongly  aroused  to  the  multitude  of  riches  in  the 
world,  its  countless  beauties.  She  especially  loved  to 
look  through  the  great  folios  of  the  zoological  atlas,  and 
although  the  text  was  written  in  a  foreign  language,  it 
gave  her  the  clearest  conception  of  the  beauty,  wealth, 
and  vastness  of  the  earth. 

"  It's  an  immense  world,"  she  said  to  Nikolay  at 
dinner. 

"  Yes,  and  yet  the  people  are  crowded  for  space." 

The  insects,  particularly  the  butterflies,  astonished  her 
most. 

"  What  beauty,  Nikolay  Ivanovich,"  she  observed. 
"And  how  much  of  this  fascinating  beauty  there  is  every- 
where, but  all  covered  up  from  us ;  it  all  flies  by  without 
our  seeing  it.  People  toss  about,  they  know  nothing,  they 
are  unable  to  take  delight  in  anything,  they  have  no  in- 
clination  for  it.      How   many  could   take   happiness  to 

301 


MOTHER 

themselves  If  they  knew  how  rich  the  earth  Is,  how  many 
wonderful  things  live  in  it !  " 

Nikolay  listened  to  her  raptures,  smiled,  and  brought 
her  new  illustrated  books. 

In  the  evening  visitors  often  gathered  In  his  house — 
Alexey  Vasilyevlch,  a  handsome  man,  pale-faced,  black- 
bearded,  sedate,  and  taciturn;  Roman  Petrovich,  a  pim- 
ply, round-headed  individual  always  smacking  his  lips 
regretfully ;  Ivan  Danilovlch,  a  short,  lean  fellow  with  a 
pointed  beard  and  thin  hair,  impetuous,  vociferous,  and 
sharp  as  an  awl,  and  Yegor,  always  joking  with  his  com- 
rades about  his  sickness.  Sometimes  other  people  were 
present  who  had  come  from  various  distant  cities.  The 
long  conversations  always  turned  on  one  and  the  same 
thing,  on  the  working  people  of  the  world.  The  comrades 
discussed  the  workingmen,  got  into  arguments  about 
them,  became  heated,  waved  their  hands,  and  drank  much 
tea;  while  Nikolay,  in  the  noise  of  the  conversation,  si- 
lently composed  proclamations.  Then  he  read  them  to 
the  comrades,  who  copied  them  on  the  spot  In  printed 
letters.  The  mother  carefully  collected  the  pieces  of  the 
torn,  rough  copies,  and  burned  them. 

She  poured  out  tea  for  them,  and  wondered  at  the 
warmth  with  which  they  discussed  life  and  the  working- 
people,  the  means  whereby  to  sow  truth  among  them  the 
sooner  and  the  better,  and  how  to  elevate  their  spirit. 
These  problems  were  always  agitating  the  comrades ; 
their  lives  revolved  about  them.  Often  they  angrily  dis- 
agreed, blamed  one  another  for  something,  got  offended, 
and  again  discussed. 

The  mother  felt  that  she  knew  the  life  of  the  work- 
ingmen better  than  these  people,  and  saw  more  clearly 
than  they  the  enormity  of  the  task  they  assumed.  She 
could  look  upon  them  with  the  somewhat  melancholy  in- 

302 


MOTHER 

dulgence  of  a  grown-up  person  toward  children  who  play 
man  and  wife  without  understanding  the  drama  of 
the  relation. 

Sometimes  Sashenka  came.  She  never  stayed  long, 
and  always  spoke  in  a  businesslike  way  without  smiling. 
She  did  not  once  fail  to  ask  on  leaving  how  Pavel  Mik- 
haylovich  was. 

**  Is  he  well  ?  "  she  would  ask. 

*'  Thank  God !     So,  so.    He's  in  good  spirits." 

''  Give  him  my  regards,"  the  girl  would  request,  and 
then  disappear. 

Sometimes  the  mother  complained  to  Sashenka  be- 
cause Pavel  was  detained  so  long  and  no  date  was  yet  set 
for  his  trial.  Sashenka  looked  gloomy,  and  maintained 
silence,  her  fingers  twitching.  Nilovna  was  tempted  to 
say  to  her :  **  My  dear  girl,  why,  I  know  you  love  him,  I 
know."  But  Sashenka's  austere  face,  her  compressed  lips, 
and  her  dry,  businesslike  manner,  which  seemed  to  be- 
token a  desire  for  silence  as  soon  as  possible,  forbade 
any  demonstration  of  sentiment.  With  a  sigh  the  mother 
mutely  clasped  the  hand  that  the  girl  extended  to  her,  and 
thought :  ''  My  unhappy  girl !  " 

Once  Natasha  came.  She  showed  great  delight  at  see- 
ing the  mother,  kissed  her,  and  among  other  things  an- 
nounced to  her  quietly,  as  if  she  had  just  thought  of  the 
thing : 

"  My  mother  died.  Poor  woman,  she's  dead !  "  She 
v/iped  her  eyes  with  a  rapid  gesture  of  her  hands,  and 
continued :  "  I'm  sorry  for  her.  She  was  not  yet  fifty. 
She  had  a  long  life  before  her  still.  But  when  you  look 
at  it  from  the  other  side  you  can't  help  thinking  that 
death  is  easier  than  such  a  life — always  alone,  a  stranger 
to  everybody,  needed  by  no  one,  scared  by  the  shouts  of 
my  father.    Can  you  call  that  living  ?    People  live  waiting 

303 


MOTHER 

for  something  good,  and  she  had  nothing  to  expect  except 
insults." 

"  You're  right,  Natasha,"  said  the  mother  musingly. 
"  People  live  expecting  some  good,  and  if  there's  noth- 
ing to  expect,  what  sort  of  a  Hfe  is  it?"  Kindly 
stroking  Natasha's  hand,  she  asked :  ''  So  you're  alone 
now  ?  " 

"  Alone !  "  the  girl  rejoined  lightly. 

The  mother  was  silent,  then  suddenly  remarked  with 
a  smile: 

''  Never  mind !  A  good  person  does  not  live  alone. 
People  will  always  attach  themselves  to  a  good  person." 

Natasha  was  now  a  teacher  in  a  little  town  where 
there  was  a  textile  mill,  and  Nilovna  occasionally  pro- 
cured illegal  books,  proclamations,  and  newspapers  for 
her.  The  distribution  of  literature,  in  fact,  became  the 
mother's  occupation.  Several  times  a  month,  dressed  as 
a  nun  or  as  a  peddler  of  laces  or  small  linen  articles,  as 
a  rich  merchant's  wife  or  a  religious  pilgrim,  she  rode  or 
walked  about  with  a  sack  on  her  back,  or  a  valise  in  her 
hand.  Everywhere,  in  the  train,  in  the  steamers,  in  ho- 
tels and  inns,  she  behaved  simply  and  unobtrusively. 
She  was  the  first  to  enter  into  conversations  with  stran- 
gers, fearlessly  drawing  attention  to  herself  by  her  kind, 
sociable  talk  and  the  confident  manner  of  an  experienced 
person  who  has  seen  and  heard  much. 

She  liked  to  speak  to  people,  liked  to  listen  to  their 
stories  of  life,  their  complaints,  their  perplexities,  and 
lamentations.  Her  heart  was  bathed  in  joy  each  time 
she  noticed  in  anybody  poignant  discontent  with  life, 
that  discontent  which,  protesting  against  the  blows  of 
fate,  earnestly  seeks  to  find  an  answer  to  its  questions. 
Before  her  the  picture  of  human  life  unrolled  itself  ever 
wider  and  more  varicolored,  that  restless,  anxious  life 

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MOTHER 

passed  In  the  stntggle  to  fill  the  stomach.  Everywhere 
she  clearly  saw  the  coarse,  bare  striving,  insolent  in  its 
openness,  deceiving  man,  robbing  him,  pressing  out  of 
him  as  much  sap  as  possible,  draining  him  of  his  very 
lifeblood.  She  realized  that  there  was  plenty  of  every- 
thing upon  earth,  but  that  the  people  were  in  want, 
and  lived  half  starved,  surrounded  by  inexhaustible 
wealth.  In  the  cities  stood  churches  filled  with  gold  and 
silver,  not  needed  by  God,  and  at  the  entrance  to  the 
churches  shivered  the  beggars  vainly  awaiting  a  little 
copper  coin  to  be  thrust  into  their  hands.  Formerly  she 
had  seen  this,  too — rich  churches,  priestly  vestments 
sewed  with  gold  threads,  and  the  hovels  of  the  poor, 
their  ignominious  rags.  But  at  that  time  the  thing 
had  seemed  natural;  now  the  contrast  was  irreconcil- 
able and  insulting  to  the  poor,  to  whom,  she  knew,  the 
churches  were  both  nearer  and  more  necessary  than  to 
the  rich. 

From  the  pictures  and  stories  of  Christ,  she  knew 
also  that  he  was  a  friend  of  the  poor,  that  he  dressed 
simply.  But  in  the  churches,  where  poverty  came  to  him 
for  consolation,  she  saw  him  nailed  to  the  cross  with 
insolent  gold,  she  saw  silks  and  satins  flaunting  in  the  face 
of  want.  The  words  of  Rybin  occurred  to  her :  "  They 
have  mutilated  even  our  God  for  us,  they  have  turned 
everything  in  their  hands  against  us.  In  the  churches 
they  set  up  a  scarecrow  before  us.  They  have  dressed 
God  up  in  falsehood  and  calumny;  they  have  distorted 
His  face  in  order  to  destroy  our  souls !  " 

Without  being  herself  aware  of  it,  she  prayed  less; 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  she  meditated  more  and  more  upon 
Christ  and  the  people  who,  without  mentioning  his  name, 
as  though  ignorant  of  him,  lived,  it  seemed  to  her,  ac- 
cording to  his  will,  and,  like  him,  regarded  the  earth  as  the 

305 


MOTHER 

kingdom  of  the  poor,  and  wanted  to  divide  all  the  wealth 
of  the  earth  among  the  poor.  Her  reflections  grew  in 
her  soul,  deepening  and  embracing  everything  she  saw 
and  heard.  They  grew  and  assumed  the  bright  aspect 
of  a  prayer,  suffusing  an  even  glow  over  the  entire  dark 
world,  the  whole  of  life,  and  all  people. 

And  it  seemed  to  her  that  Christ  himself,  whom  she 
had  always  loved  with  a  perplexed  love,  with  a  compli- 
cated feeling  in  which  fear  was  closely  bound  up  with 
hope,  and  joyful  emotion  with  melancholy,  now  came 
nearer  to  her,  and  was  different  from  what  he  had  been. 
His  position  was  loftier,  and  he  was  more  clearly  visible 
to  her.  His  aspect  turned  brighter  and  more  cheerful. 
Now  his  eyes  smiled  on  her  with  assurance,  and  with  a 
live  inward  power,  as  if  he  had  in  reality  risen  to  life 
for  mankind,  washed  and  vivified  by  the  hot  blood  lav- 
ishly shed  in  his  name.  Yet  those  who  had  lost  their 
blood  modestly  refrained  from  mentioning  the  name  of 
the  unfortunate  friend  of  the  people. 

The  mother  always  returned  to  Nikolay  from  her 
travels  delightfully  exhilarated  by  what  she  had  seen  and 
heard  on  the  road,  bold  and  satisfied  with  the  work  she 
had  accomplished. 

'*  It's  good  to  go  everywhere,  and  to  see  much,"  she 
said  to  Nikolay  in  the  evening.  "  You  understand  how 
life  is  arranged.  They  brush  the  people  aside  and  fling 
chem  to  the  edge.  The  people,  hurt  and  wounded,  keep 
moving  about,  even  though  they  don't  want  to,  and 
though  they  keep  thinking :  *  What  for  ?  Why  do  they 
drive  us  away?  Why  must  we  go  hungry  when  there 
is  so  much  of  everything?  And  how  much  intellect 
there  is  everywhere !  Nevertheless,  we  must  remain  in 
stupidity  and  darkness.  And  where  is  He,  the  merci- 
ful God,  in  whose  eyes  there  are  no  rich  nor  poor,  but 

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MOTHER 

all  are  children  dear  to  His  heart.'  The  people  are 
gradually  revolting  against  this  life.  They  feel  that 
untruth  will  stifle  them  if  they  don't  take  thought  of 
themselves." 

And  in  her  leisure  hours  she  sat  down  to  the  books, 
and  again  looked  over  the  pictures,  each  time  finding 
something  new,  ever  widening  the  panorama  of  life  be- 
fore her  eyes,  unfolding  the  beauties  of  nature  and  the 
vigorous  creative  capacity  of  man.  Nikolay  often  found 
her  poring  over  the  pictures.  He  would  smile  and  al- 
ways tell  her  something  wonderful.  Struck  by  man's 
daring,  she  would  ask  him  incredulously,  "  Is  it  pos- 
sible?" 

Quietly,  with  unshakable  confidence  in  the  truth  of 
his  prophecies,  Nikolay  peered  with  his  kind  eyes  through 
his  glasses  into  the  mother's  face,  and  told  her  stories 
of  the  future. 

"  There  is  no  measure  to  the  desires  of  man ;  and  his 
power  is  inexhaustible,"  he  said.  "But  the  world,  after 
all,  is  still  very  slow  in  acquiring  spiritual  wealth.  Be- 
cause nowadays  everyone  desiring  to  free  himself  from 
dependence  is  compelled  to  hoard,  not  knowledge  but 
money.  However,  when  the  people  will  have  extermi- 
nated greed  and  will  have  freed  themselves  from  the 
bondage  of  enslaving  labor " 

She  listened  to  him  with  strained  attention.  Though 
she  but  rarely  understood  the  meaning  of  his  words,  yet 
the  calm  faith  animating  them  penetrated  her  more  and 
more  deeply. 

"  There  are  extremely  few  free  men  in  the  world — 
that's  its  misfortune,"  he  said. 

This  the  mother  understood.  She  knew  men  who  had 
emancipated  themselves  from  greed  and  evil ;  she  under- 
stood that  if  there  were  more  such  people,  the  dark,  in- 

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MOTHER 

comprehensible,  and  awful  face  of  life  would  become  more 
kindly  and  simple,  better  and  brighter. 

'*  A  man  must  perforce  be  cruel/'  said  Nikolay  dis- 
mally. 

The  mother  nodded  her  head  in  confirmation.  She 
recalled  the  sayings  of  the  Little  Russian. 


CHAPTER   VI 

NCE  Nikolay,  usually  so  punctual,  came 
from  his  work  much  later  than  was  his 
wont,  and  said,  excitedly  rubbing  his  hands : 
"  Do  you  know,  Nilovna,  to-day  at  the  vis- 
iting hour  one  of  our  comrades  disappeared 
from  prison  ?  But  we  have  not  succeeded  in  finding  out 
who." 

The  mother's  body  swayed,  overpowered  by  excite- 
ment. She  sat  down  on  a  chair  and  asked  with  forced 
quiet : 

"Maybe  it's  Pasha?" 

"  Possibly.  But  the  question  is  how  to  find  him,  how 
to  help  him  keep  in  concealment.  Just  now  I  was  walk- 
ing about  the  streets  to  see  if  I  couldn't  detect  him.  It 
was  a  stupid  thing  of  me  to  do,  but  I  had  to  do  something. 
I'm  going  out  again." 

"  I'll  go,  too,"  said  the  mother,  rising. 
"  You  go  to  Yegor,  and  see  if  he  doesn't  know  any- 
thing about  it,"  Nikolay  suggested,  and  quickly  walked 
away. 

She  threw  a  kerchief  on  her  head,  and,  seized  with 
hope,  swiftly  sped  along  the  streets.  Her  eyes  dimmed 
and  her  heart  beat  faster.  Her  head  drooped;  she  saw 
nothing  about  her.  It  was  hot.  The  mother  lost  breath, 
and  when  she  reached  the  stairway  leading  to  Yegor's 
quarters,  she  stopped,  too  faint  to  proceed  farther.  She 
turned  around  and  uttered  an  amazed,  low  cry,  closing 

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MOTHER 

her  eyes  for  a  second.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Nikolay 
Vyesovshchikov  was  standing  at  the  gate,  his  hands 
thrust  into  his  pockets,  regarding  her  with  a  smile.  But 
when  she  looked  again  nobody  was  there. 

"  I  imagined  I  saw  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  slowly 
walking  up  the  steps  and  listening.  She  caught  the  sound 
of  slow  steps,  and  stopping  at  a  turn  in  the  stairway,  she 
bent  over  to  look  below,  and  again  saw  the  pockmarked 
face  smiling  up  at  her. 

''  Nikolay !  Nikolay !  "  she  whispered,  and  ran  down  to 
meet  him.  Her  heart,  stung  by  disappointment,  ached 
for  her  son. 

"  Go,  go  1  "  he  answered  in  an  undertone,  waving  his 
hand. 

She  quickly  ran  up  the  stairs,  walked  into  Yegor's 
room,  and  found  him  lying  on  the  sofa.  She  gasped  in  a 
whisper : 

"  Nikolay  is  out  of  prison !  " 

"  Which  Nikolay  ? "  asked  Yegor,  raising  his  head 
from  the  pillow.    "  There  are  two  there.'* 

"  Vyesovshchikov.    He's  coming  here !  " 

"  Fine !     But  I  can't  rise  to  meet  him." 

Vyesovshchikov  had  already  come  into  the  room. 
He  locked  the  door  after  him,  and  taking  off  his  hat 
laughed  quietly,  stroking  his  hair.  Yegor  raised  himself 
on  his  elbows. 

"  Please,  signor,  make  yourself  at  home,"  he  said  with 
a  nod. 

Without  saying  anything,  a  broad  smile  on  his  face, 
Nikolay  walked  up  to  the  mother  and  grasped  her  hand. 

"  If  I  had  not  seen  you  I  might  as  well  have  returned 
to  prison.  I  know  nobody  in  the  city.  If  I  had  gone  to 
the  suburbs  they  would  have  seized  me  at  once.  So  I 
walked  about,  and  thought  what  a  fool  I  was — why  had 

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MOTHER 

I  escaped?     Suddenly  I  see  Nilovna  running;  off  I  am, 
after  you." 

"  How  did  you  make  your  escape  ?  " 

Vyesovshchikov  sat  down  awkwardly  on  the  edge  of 
the  sofa  and  pressed  Yegor's  hand. 

"  I  don't  know  how,"  he  said  in  an  embarrassed  man- 
ner. "  Simply  a  chance.  I  was  taking  my  airing,  and  the 
prisoners  began  to  beat  the  overseer  of  the  jail.  There's 
one  overseer  there  who  was  expelled  from  the  gendarm- 
erie for  stealing.  He's  a  spy,  an  informer,  and  tortures 
the  life  out  of  everybody.  They  gave  him  a  drubbing, 
there  was  a  hubbub,  the  overseers  got  frightened  and 
blew  their  whistles.  I  noticed  the  gates  open.  I  walked 
up  and  saw  an  open  square  and  the  city.  It  drew  me  for- 
ward and  I  went  away  without  haste,  as  if  in  sleep.  I 
walked  a  little  and  bethought  myself :  '  Where  am  I  to 
go  ? '  I  looked  around  and  the  gates  of  the  prison  were 
already  closed.  I  began  to  feel  awkward.  I  was  sorry 
for  the  comrades  in  general.  It  was  stupid  somehow.  I 
hadn't  thought  of  going  away." 

"  Hm !  "  said  Yegor.  "  Why,  sir,  you  should  have 
turned  back,  respectfully  knocked  at  the  prison  door,  and 
begged  for  admission.  '  Excuse  me,'  you  should  have 
said, '  I  was  tempted ;  but  here  I  am.'  " 

"  Yes,"  continued  Nikolay,  smiling ;  "  that  would  have 
been  stupid,  too,  I  understand.  But  for  all  that,  it's  not 
nice  to  the  other  comrades.  I  walk  away  without  saying 
anything  to  anybody.  Well,  I  kept  on  going,  and  I  came 
across  a  child's  funeral.  I  followed  the  hearse  with  my 
head  bent  down,  looking  at  nobody.  I  sat  down  in  the 
cemetery  and  enjoyed  the  fresh  air.     One  thought  came 

into  my  head " 

"  One  ?  "  asked  Yegor.  Fetching  breath,  he  added : 
"  I  suppose  it  won't  feel  crowded  there." 

311 


MOTHER 

Vyesovshchikov  laughed  without  taking  offense,  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  my  brain's  not  so  empty  now  as  it  used  to  be. 
And  you,  Yegor  Ivanovich,  still  sick  ?  " 

"  Each  one  does  what  he  can.  No  one  has  a  right  to 
interfere  with  him."  Yegor  evaded  an  answer;  he 
coughed  hoarsely.    "  Continue." 

"  Then  I  went  to  a  public  museum.  I  walked  about 
there,  looked  around,  and  kept  thinking  all  the  time: 
*  Where  am  I  to  go  next  ? '  I  even  began  to  get  angry 
with  myself.  Besides,  I  got  dreadfully  hungry.  I  walked 
into  the  street  and  kept  on  trotting.  I  felt  very  down  in 
the  mouth.  And  then  I  saw  police  officers  looking  at 
everybody  closely.  *  Well,'  thinks  I  to  myself,  *  with  my 
face  ril  arrive  at  God's  judgment  seat  pretty  soon.' 
Suddenly  Nilovna  came  running  opposite  me.  I  turned 
about,  and  off  I  went  after  her.    That's  all." 

"  And  I  didn't  even  see  you,"  said  the  mother  guiltily. 

"  The  comrades  are  probably  uneasy  about  me.  They 
must  be  wondering  where  I  am,"  said  Nikolay,  scratching 
his  head. 

"  Aren't  you  sorry  for  the  officials  ?  I  guess  they're 
uneasy,  too,"  teased  Yegor.  He  moved  heavily  on  the 
sofa,  and  said  seriously  and  solicitously :  "  However, 
jokes  aside,  we  must  hide  you — by  no  means  as  easy  as 
pleasant.  If  I  could  get  up — "  His  breath  gave  out. 
He  clapped  his  hand  to  his  breast,  and  with  a  weak  move- 
ment began  to  rub  it. 

"  You've  gotten  very  sick,  Yegor  Ivanovich,"  said 
Nikolay  gloomily,  drooping  his  head.  The  mother  sighed 
and  cast  an  anxious  glance  about  the  little,  crowded  room. 

"  That's  my  own  affair.  Granny,  you  ask  about  Pavel. 
No  reason  to  feign  indifference,"  said  Yegor. 

Vyesovshchikov  smiled  broadly. 
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MOTHSR 

'*  Pavel's  all  right ;  he's  strong ;  he's  like  an  elder 
among  us  ,*  he  converses  with  the  officials  and  gives  com- 
mands ;  he's  respected.    There's  good  reason  for  it." 

Vlasova  nodded  her  head,  listening,  and  looked  side- 
wise  at  the  swollen,  bluish  face  of  Yegor,  congealed  to 
immobility,  devoid  of  expression.  It  seemed  strangely 
flat,  only  the  eyes  flashed  with  animation  and  cheerfulness. 

"  I  wish  you'd  give  me  something  to  eat.  I'm  fright- 
fully hungry,"  Nikolay  cried  out  unexpectedly,  and 
smiled  sheepishly. 

*'  Granny,  there's  bread  on  the  shelf — give  it  to  him. 
Then  go  out  in  the  corridor,  to  the  second  door  on  the 
left,  and  knock.  A  woman  will  open  it,  and  you'll  tell  her 
to  snatch  up  everything  she  has  to  eat  and  come  here." 

"  Why  everything  ?  "  protested  Nikolay. 

"  Don't  get  excited.  It's  not  much — maybe  nothing 
at  all." 

The  mother  went  out  and  rapped  at  the  door.  She 
strained  her  ears  for  an  answering  sound,  while  think- 
ing of  Yegor  with  dread  and  grief.  He  was  dying,  she 
knew. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  somebody  asked  on  the  other  side  of 
the  door. 

"  It's  from  Yegor  Ivanovich,"  the  mother  whispered. 
*'  He  asked  you  to  come  to  him." 

"  I'll  come  at  once,"  the  woman  answered  without 
opening  the  door.  The  mother  waited  a  moment,  and 
knocked  again.  This  time  the  door  opened  quickly,  and  a 
tall  woman  wearing  glasses  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  rap- 
idly tidying  the  ruffled  sleeves  of  her  waist.  She  asked 
the  mother  harshly: 

"What  do  you  want?" 

*'  I'm  from  Yegor  Ivanovich." 

"  Aha !  Come !  Oh,  yes,  I  know  you !  "  the  woman 
313 


MOTHER 

exclaimed  in  a  low  voice.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  It's  dark 
here." 

Nilovna  looked  at  her  and  remembered  that  this 
woman  had  come  to  Nikolay's  home  on  rare  occasions. 

*'  All  comrades !  "  flashed  through  her  mind. 

The  woman  compelled  Nilovna  to  walk  in  front. 

"  Is  he  feeling  bad?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he's  lying  down.  He  asked  you  to  bring  some- 
thing to  eat." 

"  Well,  he  doesn't  need  anything  to  eat." 

When  they  walked  into  Yegor's  room  they  were  met 
by  the  words : 

"  I'm  preparing  to  join  my  forefathers,  my  friend. 
Liudmila  Vasilyevna,  this  man  walked  away  from  prison 
without  the  permission  of  the  authorities — a  bit  of  shame- 
less audacity.  Before  all,  feed  him,  then  hide  him  some- 
where for  a  day  or  two." 

The  woman  nodded  her  head  and  looked  carefully  at 
the  sick  man's  face. 

"  Stop  your  chattering,  Yegor,"  she  said  sternly. 
"  You  know  it's  bad  for  you.  You  ought  to  have  sent  for 
me  at  once,  as  soon  as  they  came.  And  I  see  you  didn't 
take  your  medicine.  What  do  you  mean  by  such  negli- 
gence? You  yourself  say  it's  easier  for  you  to  breathe 
after  a  dose.  Comrade,  come  to  my  place.  They'll  soon 
call  for  Yegor  from  the  hospital." 

''So  I'm  to  go  to  the  hospital,  after  all?"  asked 
Yegor,  puckering  up  his  face. 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  there  with  you." 

"There,  too?" 

"  Hush !  " 

As  she  talked  she  adjusted  the  blanket  on  Yegor's 
breast,  looked  fixedly  at  Nikolay,  and  with  her  eyes  meas- 
ured the  quantity  of  medicine  in  the  bottle.     She  spoke 

314 


MOTHER 

evenly,  not  loud,  but  in  a  resonant  voice.  Her  movements 
were  easy,  her  face  was  pale,  with  large  blue  circles 
around  her  eyes.  Her  black  eyebrows  almost  met  at 
the  bridge  of  the  nose,  deepening  the  setting  of  her 
dark,  stern  eyes.  Her  face  did  not  please  the  mother; 
it  seemed  haughty  in  its  sternness  and  immobility,  and 
her  eyes  were  rayless.  She  always  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
command. 

"  We  are  going  away,"  she  continued.  "  I'll  return 
soon.    Give  Yegor  a  tablespoon  of  this  medicine." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  mother. 

"  And  don't  let  him  speak."  She  walked  away,  tak- 
ing Nikolay  with  her. 

"  Admirable  woman ! "  said  Yegor  with  a  sigh. 
"  Magnificent  woman !  You  ought  to  be  working  with 
her,  granny.  You  see,  she  gets  very  much  worn  out.  It's 
she  that  does  all  the  printing  for  us." 

'*  Don't  speak.  Here,  you'd  better  take  this  medicine,'* 
the  mother  said  gently. 

He  swallowed  the  medicine  and  continued,  for  some 
reason  screwing  up  one  eye: 

"  I'll  die  all  the  same,  even  if  I  don't  speak." 

He  looked  into  the  mother's  face  with  his  other  eye, 
and  his  lips  slowly  formed  themselves  into  a  smile.  The 
mother  bent  her  head,  a  sharp  sensation  of  pity  bringing 
tears  into  her  eyes. 

"  Never  mind,  granny.  It's  natural.  The  pleasure  of 
living  carries  with  it  the  obligation  to  die." 

The  mother  put  her  hand  on  his,  and  again  said  softly : 

"  Keep  quiet,  please !  " 

He  shut  his  eyes  as  if  listening  to  the  rattle  in  his 
breast,  and  went  on  stubbornly. 

"  It's  senseless  to  keep  quiet,  granny.  What'll  I  gain 
by  keeping  quiet?  A  few  superfluous  seconds  of  agony. 
21  315 


MOTHER 

And  ril  lose  the  great  pleasure  of  chattering  with  a  good 
person.  I  think  that  in  the  next  world  there  aren't  such 
good  people  as  here." 

The  mother  uneasily  interrupted  him. 

''  The  lady  will  come,  and  she'll  scold  me  because 
you  talk." 

"  She's  no  lady.  She's  a  revolutionist,  the  daughter  of 
a  village  scribe,  a  teacher.  She  is  sure  to  scold  you  any- 
how, granny.  She  scolds  everybody  always."  And, 
slowly  moving  his  lips  with  an  effort,  Yegor  began  to 
relate  the  life  history  of  his  neighbor.  His  eyes  smiled. 
The  mother  saw  that  he  was  bantering  her  purposely. 
As  she  regarded  his  face,  covered  with  a  moist  blueness, 
she  thought  distressfully  that  he  was  near  to  death. 

Liudmila  entered,  and  carefully  closing  the  door  after 
her,  said,  turning  to  Vlasova : 

"  Your  friend  ought  to  change  his  clothes  without  fail, 
and  leave  here  as  soon  as  possible.  So  go  at  once;  get 
him  some  clothes,  and  bring  them  here.  I'm  sorry  Sofya's 
not  here.    Hiding  people  is  her  specialty." 

"  She's  coming  to-morrow,"  remarked  Vlasova,  throw- 
ing her  shawl  over  her  shoulders.  Every  time  she  was 
given  a  commission  the  strong  desire  seized  her  to  ac- 
complish it  promptly  and  well,  and  she  was  unable  to 
think  of  anything  but  the  task  before  her.  Now,  low- 
ering her  brows  with  an  air  of  preoccupation,  she  asked 
zealously : 

*'  How  should  we  dress  him,  do  you  think?" 
.  *'  It's  all  the  same.    It's  night,  you  know." 

**  At  night  it's  worse.  There  are  less  people  on  the 
street,  and  the  police  spy  around  more ;  and,  you  know, 
he's  rather  awkward." 

Yegor  laughed  hoarsely. 

"  You're  a  young  girl  yet,  granny." 
316 


MOTHMR 

"  May  I  visit  you  in  the  hospital  ?  " 

He  nodded  his  head,  coughing.  Liudmila  glanced  at 
the  mother  with  her  dark  eyes  and  suggested : 

''Do  you  want  to  take  turns  with  me  in  attending 
him  ?    Yes  ?    Very  well.    And  now  go  quickly." 

She  vigorously  seized  Vlasova  by  the  hand,  with  per- 
fect good  nature,  however,  and  led  her  out  of  the  door. 

"  You  mustn't  be  offended,"  she  said  softly,  *'  because 
I  dismiss  you  so  abruptly.  I  know  it's  rude ;  but  it's 
harmful  for  him  to  speak,  and  I  still  have  hopes  of  his 
recovery."  She  pressed  her  hands  together  until  the 
bones  cracked.  Her  eyelids  drooped  wearily  over  her 
eyes. 

The  explanation  disturbed  the  mother.  She  mur- 
mured : 

"  Don't  talk  that  way.  The  idea !  Who  thought  of 
rudeness?    I'm  going;  good-by." 

"  Look  out  for  the  spies !  "  whispered  the  woman. 

"  I  know,"  the  mother  answered  with  some  pride. 

She  stopped  for  a  minute  outside  the  gate  to  look 
around  sharply  under  the  pretext  of  adjusting  her  ker- 
chief. She  was  already  able  to  distinguish  spies  in  a 
street  crowd  almost  immediately.  She  recognized  the 
exaggerated  carelessness  of  their  gait,  their  strained  at- 
tempt to  be  free  in  their  gestures,  the  expression  of  tedium 
on  their  faces,  the  wary,  guilty  glimmer  of  their  rest- 
less, unpleasantly  sharp  gaze  badly  hidden  behind  their 
feigned  candor. 

This  time  she  did  not  notice  any  familiar  faces,  and 
walked  along  the  street  without  hastening.  She  took  a 
cab,  and  gave  orders  to  be  driven  to  the  market  place. 
When  buying  the  clothes  for  Nikolay  she  bargained  vig- 
orously with  the  salespeople,  all  the  while  scolding  at  her 
drunken   husband  whom  she  had  to  dress   anew  every 

317 


MOTHER 

month.  The  tradespeople  paid  little  attention  to  her  talk, 
but  she  herself  was  greatly  pleased  with  her  ruse.  On 
the  road  she  had  calculated  that  the  police  would,  of 
course,  understand  the  necessity  for  Nikolay  to  change 
his  clothes,  and  would  send  spies  to  the  market.  With 
such  naive  precautions,  she  returned  to  Yegor's  quarters ; 
then  she  had  to  escort  Nikolay  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  They  took  different  sides  of  the  street,  and  it  was 
amusing  to  the  mother  to  see  how  Vyesovshchikov  strode 
along  heavily,  with  bent  head,  his  legs  getting  tangled  in 
the  long  flaps  of  his  russet-colored  coat,  his  hat  falling 
over  his  nose.  In  one  of  the  deserted  streets,  Sashenka 
met  them,  and  the  mother,  taking  leave  of  Vyesovshchi- 
kov with  a  nod  of  her  head,  turned  toward  home  with  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

"  And  Pasha  is  in  prison  with  Andriusha ! "  she 
thought  sadly. 

Nikolay  met  her  with  an  anxious  exclamation: 

"  You  know  that  Yegor  is  in  a  very  bad  way,  very 
bad !  He  was  taken  to  the  hospital.  Liudmila  was  here. 
She  asks  you  to  come  to  her  there." 

"  At  the  hospital  ?  " 

Adjusting  his  eyeglasses  with  a  nervous  gesture,  Nik- 
olay helped  her  on  with  her  jacket  and  pressed  her  hand 
in  a  dry,  hot  grasp.  His  voice  was  low  and  tremulous. 
"  Yes.  Take  this  package  with  you.  Have  you  disposed 
of  Vyesovshchikov  all  right?" 

"  Yes,  all  right." 

"  ril  come  to  Yegor,  too!  " 

The  mother's  head  was  in  a  whirl  with  fatigue,  and 
Nikolay's  emotion  aroused  in  her  a  sad  premonition  of 
the  drama's  end. 

"  So  he's  dying — he's  dying !  "  The  dark  thought 
knocked  at  her  brain  heavily  and  dully. 

318 


MOTHER 

But  when  she  entered  the  bright,  tidy  little  room  of 
the  hospital  and  saw  Yegor  sitting  on  the  pallet  propped 
against  the  wide  bosom  of  the  pillow,  and  heard  him 
laugh  with  zest,  she  was  at  once  relieved.  She  paused  at 
the  door,  smiling,  and  listened  to  Yegor  talk  with  the 
physician  in  a  hoarse  but  lively  voice. 

"  A  cure  is  a  reform." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense !  "  the  physician  cried  officiously 
in  a  thin  voice. 

"And  I'm  a  revolutionist!    I  detest  reforms!" 

The  physician,  thoughtfully  pulling  his  beard,  felt  the 
dropsical  swelling  on  Yegor's  face.  The  mother  knew 
him  well.  He  was  Ivan  Danilovich,  one  of  the  close 
comrades  of  Nikolay.  She  walked  up  to  Yegor,  who 
thrust  forth  his  tongue  by  way  of  welcome  to  her.  The 
physician  turned  around. 

"Ah,  Nilovna!  How  are  you?  Sit  down.  What 
have  you  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  books." 

"  He  mustn't  read." 

**  The  doctor  wants  to  make  an  idiot  of  me,"  Yegor 
complained. 

"  Keep  quiet !  "  the  physician  commanded,  and  began 
to  write  in  a  little  book. 

The  short,  heavy  breaths,  accompanied  by  rattling  in 
his  throat,  fairly  tore  themselves '  from  Yegor's  breast, 
and  his  face  became  covered  with  thin  perspiration. 
Slowly  raising  his  swollen  hand,  he  wiped  his  forehead 
with  the  palm.  The  strange  immobility  of  his  swollen 
cheeks  denaturalized  his  broad,  good  face,  all  the  features 
of  which  disappeared  under  the  dead,  bluish  mask.  Only 
his  eyes,  deeply  sunk  beneath  the  swellings,  looked  out 
clear  and  smiling  benevolently. 

"  Oh,  Science,  I'm  tired !    May  I  lie  down?  " 
3^9 


MOTHER 

"  No,  you  mayn't." 

"  But  I'm  going  to  lie  down  after  you  go." 

"  Nilovna,  please  don't  let  him.    It's  bad  for  him." 

The  mother  nodded.  The  physician  hurried  off  with 
short  steps.  Yegor  threw  back  his  head,  closed  his  eyes 
and  sank  into  a  torpor,  motionless  save  for  the  twitching 
of  his  fingers.  The  white  walls  of  the  little  room  seemed 
to  radiate  a  dry  coldness  and  a  pale,  faceless  sadness. 
Through  the  large  window  peered  the  tufted  tops  of  the 
iime  trees,  amid  whose  dark,  dusty  foliage  yellow  stains 
were  blazing,  the  cold  touches  of  approaching  autumn. 

"  Death  is  coming  to  me  slowly,  reluctantly,"  said 
Yegor  without  moving  and  without  opening  his  eyes. 
"  He  seems  to  be  a  little  sorry  for  me.  I  was  such  a  fine, 
sociable  chap." 

"  You'd  better  keep  quiet,  Yegor  Ivanovich !  "  the 
mother  bade,  quietly  stroking  his  hand. 

"  Wait,  granny,  I'll  be  silent  soon." 

Losing  breath  every  once  in  a  while,  enunciating  the 
words  with  a  mighty  effort,  he  continued*  his  talk,  inter- 
rupted by  long  spells  of  faintness. 

*'  It's  splendid  to  have  you  with  me.  It's  pleasant  to 
see  your  face,  granny,  and  your  eyes  so  alert,  and  your 
naivete.  '  How  will  it  end  ?  '  I  ask  myself.  It's  sad  to 
think  that  the  prison,  exile,  and  all  sorts  of  vile  out- 
rages await  you  as  everybody  else.  Are  you  afraid  of 
prison  ?  " 

''  No,"  answered  the  mother  softly. 

"  But  after  all  the  prison  is  a  mean  place.  It's  the 
prison  that  knocked  me  up.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't 
want  to  die." 

"  Maybe  you  won't  die  yet,"  the  mother  was  about  to 
say,  but  a  look  at  his  face  froze  the  words  on  her  lips. 

"  If  I  hadn't  gotten  sick  I  could  have  worked  yet,  not 
320 


MOTHER 

badly ;  but  if  you  can't  work  there's  nothing  to  live  for, 
and  it's  stupid  to  live." 

"  That's  true,  but  it's  no  consolation."  Audrey's 
words  flashed  into  the  mother's  mind,  and  she  heaved  a 
deep  sigh.  She  was  greatly  fatigued  by  the  day,  and 
hungry.  The  monotonous,  humid,  hoarse  whisper  of 
the  sick  man  filled  the  room  and  crept  helplessly  along 
the  smooth,  cold,  shining  walls.  At  the  windows  the 
dark  tops  of  the  lime  trees  trembled  quietly.  It  was 
growing  dusk,  and  Yegor's  face  on  the  pillow  turned 
dark. 

"  How  bad  I  feel,"  he  said.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
became  silent.  The  mother  listened  to  his  breathing, 
looked  around,  and  sat  for  a  few  minutes  motionless, 
seized  by  a  cold  sensation  of  sadness.  Finally  she  dozed 
off. 

The  muffled  sound  of  a  door  being  carefully  shut 
awakened  her,  and  she  saw  the  kind,  open  eyes  of  Yegor. 

"  I  fell  asleep ;  excuse  me,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  And  you  excuse  me,"  he  answered,  also  quietly.  At 
the  door  was  heard  a  rustle  and  Liudmila's  voice. 

"  They  sit  in  the  darkness  and  whisper.  Where  is  the 
knob?" 

The  room  trembled  and  suddenly  became  filled  with 
a  white,  unfriendly  light.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  stood 
Liudmila,  all  black,  tall,  straight,  and  serious.  Yegor 
transferred  his  glance  to  her,  and  making  a  great  effort 
to  move  his  body,  raised  his  hand  to  his  breast. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  exclaimed  Liudmila,  running 
up  to  him.  He  looked  at  the  mother  with  fixed  eyes,  and 
now  they  seemed  large  and  strangely  bright. 

"  Wait !  "  he  whispered. 

Opening  his  mouth  wide,  he  raised  his  head  and 
stretched  his  hand  forward.    The  mother  carefully  held  it 

221 


MOTHER 

up  and  caught  her  breath  as  she  looked  into  his  face. 
With  a  convulsive  and  powerful  movement  of  his  neck 
he  flung  his  head  back,  and  said  aloud: 

"  Give  me  air !  " 

A  quiver  ran  through  his  body ;  his  head  dropped 
limply  on  his  shoulder,  and  in  his  wide  open  eyes  the  cold 
light  of  the  lamp  burning  over  the  bed  was  reflected 
dully. 

"  My  darling !  "  whispered  the  mother,  firmly  pressing 
his  hand,  which  suddenly  grew  heavy. 

Liudmila  slowly  walked  away  from  the  bed,  stopped 
at  the  window  and  stared  into  space. 

"  He's  dead !  "  she  said  in  an  unusually  loud  voice 
unfamiliar  to  Vlasova.  She  bent  down,  put  her  elbows 
on  the  window  sill,  and  repeated  in  dry,  startled  tones: 
"  He's  dead !  He  died  calmly,  like  a  man,  without  com- 
plaint." And  suddenly,  as  if  struck  a  blow  on  the  head, 
she  dropped  faintly  on  her  knees,  covered  her  face,  and 
gave  vent  to  dull,  stifled  groans. 


CHAPTER   VII 

HE  mother  folded  Yegor's  hands  over  his 
breast  and  adjusted  his  head,  which  was 
strangely  warm,  on  the  pillow.  Then  si- 
lently wiping  her  eyes,  she  went  to  Liud- 
mila,  bent  over  her,  and  quietly  stroked  her 
thick  hair.  The  woman  slowly  turned  around  to  her,  her 
dull  eyes  widened  in  a  sickly  way.  She  rose  to  her  feet, 
and  with  trembling  lips  whispered : 

"  IVe  known  him  for  a  long  time.  We  were  in  exile 
together.  We  went  there  together  on  foot,  we  sat  in 
prison  together;  at  times  it  was  intolerable,  disgusting; 
many  fell  in  spirit." 

Her  dry,  loud  groans  stuck  in  her  throat.  She  over- 
came them  with  an  effort,  and  bringing  her  face  nearer 
to  the  mother's  she  continued  in  a  quick  whisper,  moan- 
ing without  tears : 

"  Yet  he  was  unconquerably  jolly.  He  joked  and 
laughed,  and  covered  up  his  suffering  in  a  manly  way, 
always  striving  to  encourage  the  weak.  He  was  always 
good,  alert,  kind.  There,  in  Siberia,  idleness  depraves 
people,  and  often  calls  forth  ugly  feelings  toward  life. 
How  he  mastered  such  feelings !  What  a  comrade  he 
was !  If  you  only  knew.  His  own  life  was  hard  and 
tormented ;  but  I  know  that  nobody  ever  heard  him  com- 
plain, not  a  soul — never !  Here  was  I,  nearer  to  him  than 
others,     I'm  greatly  indebted  to  his  heart,  to  his  mind. 

323 


MOTHER 

He  gave  me  all  he  could  of  it ;  and  though  exhausted,  he 
never  asked  either  kindness  or  attention  in  return." 

She  walked  up  to  Yegor,  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 
Her  voice  was  husky  as  she  said  mournfully : 

"  Comrade,  my  dear,  dear  friend,  I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart!  Good-by.  I  shall  work  as  you  worked — 
unassailed  by  doubt — all  my  life — good-by!" 

The  dry,  sharp  groans  shook  her  body,  and  gasping 
for  breath  she  laid  her  head  on  the  bed  at  Yegor's  feet. 
The  mother  wept  silent  tears  which  seared  her  cheeks. 
For  some  reason  she  tried  to  restrain  them.  She  wanted 
to  fondle  Liudmila,  and  wanted  to  speak  about  Yegor 
with  words  of  love  and  grief.  She  looked  through  her 
tears  at  his  swollen  face,  at  his  eyes  calmly  covered  by 
his  drooping  eyelids  as  in  sleep,  and  at  his  dark  lips  set 
in  a  light,  serene  smile.  It  was  quiet,  and  a  bleak  bright- 
ness pervaded  the  room. 

Ivan  Danilovich  entered,  as  always,  with  short,  hasty 
steps.  He  suddenly  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  with  a  quick 
gesture. 

"  Did  it  happen  long  ago  ?  "  His  voice  was  loud  and 
nervous. 

Neither  woman  replied.  He  quietly  swung  about, 
and  wiping  his  forehead  went  to  Yegor,  pressed  his  hand, 
and  stepped  to  one  side. 

"  It's  not  strange — with  his  heart.  It  might  have  hap- 
pened six  months  ago." 

His  voice,  high-pitched  and  jarringly  loud  for  the 
occasion,  suddenly  broke  off.  Leaning  his  back  against 
the  wall,  he  twisted  his  beard  with  nimble  fingers,  and 
winking  his  eyes,  rapidly  looked  at  the  group  by  the  bed. 

*'  One  more !  "  he  muttered. 

Liudmila  rose  and  walked  over  to  the  window.  The 
324 


MOTHER 

mother  raised  her  head  and  glanced  around  with  a  sigh. 
A  minute  afterwards  they  all  three  stood  at  the  open 
window,  pressing  close  against  one  another,  and  looked 
at  the  dusky  face  of  the  autumn  night.  On  the  black 
tops  of  the  trees  glittered  the  stars,  endlessly  deepening 
the  distance  of  the  sky. 

Liudmila  took  the  mother  by  the  hand,  and  silently 
pressed  her  head  to  her  shoulders.  The  physician  nerv- 
ously bit  his  lips  and  wiped  his  eyeglasses  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. In  the  stillness  beyond  the  window  the  noc- 
turnal noise  of  the  city  heaved  wearily,  and  cold  air  blew 
on  their  faces  and  shoulders.  Liudmila  trembled;  the 
mother  saw  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  From  the 
corridor  of  the  hospital  floated  confused,  dismal  sounds. 
The  three  stood  motionless  at  the  window,  looking 
silently  into  the  darkness. 

The  mother  felt  herself  not  needed,  and  carefully 
freeing  her  hand,  went  to  the  door,  bowing  to  Yegor. 

"Are  you  going?"  the  physician  asked  softly  with- 
out looking  around. 

"  Yes." 

In  the  street  she  thought  with  pity  of  Liudmila,  re- 
membering her  scant  tears.  She  couldn't  even  have  a 
good  cry.  Then  she  pictured  to  herself  Liudmila  and  the 
physician  in  the  extremely  light  white  room,  the  dead 
eyes  of  Yegor  behind  them.  A  compassion  for  all  people 
oppressed  her.  She  sighed  heavily,  and  hastened  her 
pace,  driven  along  by  her  tumultuous  feelings. 

"  I  must  hurry,"  she  thought  in  obedience  to  a  sad  but 
encouraging  power  that  jostled  her  from  within. 

The  whole  of  the  following  day  the  mother  was  busy 
with  preparations  for  the  funeral.  In  the  evening  when 
she,  Nikolay,  and  Sofya  were  drinking  tea,  quietly  talk- 
ing about  Yegor,   Sashenka  appeared,   strangely  brim- 

325 


MOTHER 

ming  over  with  good  spirits,  her  cheeks  brilliantly  red, 
her  eyes  beaming  happily.  She  seemed  to  be  filled  with 
some  joyous  hope.  Her  animation  contrasted  sharply 
with  the  mournful  gloom  of  the  others.  The  discordant 
note  disturbed  them  and  dazzled  them  Hke  a  fire  that 
suddenly  flashes  in  the  darkness.  Nikolay  thoughtfully 
struck  his  fingers  on  the  table  and  smiled  quietly. 

"  You're  not  like  yourself  to-day,  Sasha." 

*'  Perhaps,"  she  laughed  happily. 

The  mother  looked  at  her  in  mute  remonstrance,  and 
Sofya  observed  in  a  tone  of  admonishment: 

"  And  we  were  talking  about  Yegor  Ivanovich." 

"  What  a  wonderful  fellow,  isn't  he  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Modest,  proof  against  doubt,  he  probably  never  yielded 
to  sorrow.  I  have  never  seen  him  without  a  joke  on  his 
lips ;  and  what  a  worker !  He  is  an  artist  of  the  revolu- 
tion, a  great  master,  who  skillfully  manipulates  revolu- 
tionary thoughts.  With  what  simplicity  and  power  he 
always  draws  his  pictures  of  falsehood,  violence  and  un- 
truth! And  what  a  capacity  he  has  for  tempering  the 
horrible  with  his  gay  humor  which  does  not  diminish 
the  force  of  facts  but  only  the  more  brightly  illumines  his 
inner  thought!  Always  droll!  I  am  greatly  indebted  to 
him,  and  I  shall  never  forget  his  merry  eyes,  his  fun. 
And  I  shall  always  feel  the  effect  of  his  ideas  upon  me 
in  the  time  of  my  doubts — I  love  him !  " 

She  spoke  in  a  moderated  voice,  with  a  melancholy 
smile  in  her  eyes.  But  the  incomprehensible  fire  of  her 
gaze  was  not  extinguished;  her  exultation  was  apparent 
to  everybody. 

People  love  their  own  feelings — sometimes  the  very 
feelings  that  are  harmful  to  them — are  enamored  of  them, 
and  often  derive  keen  pleasure  even  from  grief,  a  pleasure 
that  corrodes  the  heart.    Nikolay,  the  mother,  and  Sofy^ 

32^ 


MOTHER 

were  unwilling  to  let  the  sorrowful  mood  produced  by 
the  death  of  their  comrade  give  way  to  the  joy  brought 
in  by  Sasha.  Unconsciously  defending  their  melancholy 
right  to  feed  on  their  sadness,  they  tried  to  impose  their 
feelings  on  the  girl. 

"  And  now  he's  dead,"  announced  Sofya,  watching 
her  carefully. 

Sasha  glanced  around  quickly,  with  a  questioning 
look.  She  knit  her  eyebrows  and  lowered  her  head.  She 
was  silent  for  a  short  time,  smoothing  her  hair  with  slow 
strokes  of  her  hand. 

"  He's  dead  ?  "  She  again  cast  a  searching  glance 
into  their  faces.  "  It's  hard  for  me  to  reconcile  myself 
to  the  idea." 

"  But  it's  a  fact,"  said  Nikolay  with  a  smile. 

Sasha  arose,  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  sud- 
denly stopping,  said  in  a  strange  voice: 

"  What  does  '  to  die  '  signify?  What  died?  Did  my 
respect  for  Yegor  die  ?  My  love  for  him,  a  comrade  ?  The 
memory  of  his  mind's  labor?  Did  that  labor  die?  Did 
all  our  impressions  of  him  as  of  a  hero  disappear  with- 
out leaving  a  trace?  Did  all  this  die?  This  best  in  him 
will  never  die  out  of  me,  I  know.  It  seems  to  me  we're 
in  too  great  a  hurry  to  say  of  a  man  '  he's  dead.'  That's 
the  reason  we  too  soon  forget  that  a  man  never  dies  if  we 
don't  wish  our  impressions  of  his  manhood,  his  self-deny- 
ing toil  for  the  triumph  of  truth  and  happiness  to  dis- 
appear. We  forget  that  everything  should  always  be 
alive  in  living  hearts.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  bury 
the  eternally  alive,  the  ever  luminous,  along  with  a 
man's  body.  The  church  is  destroyed,  but  God  is  im- 
mortal." 

Carried  away  by  her  emotions  she  sat  down,  leaning 
her  elbows  on  the  table,  and  continued  more  thought- 

327 


MOTHER 

fully  in  a  lower  voice,  looking  smilingly  through  mist- 
covered  eyes  at  the  faces  of  the  comrades: 

"  Maybe  I'm  talking  nonsense.  But  life  intoxicates 
me  by  its  wonderful  complexity,  by  the  variety  of  its  phe- 
nomena, which  at  times  seem  like  a  miracle  to  me.  Per- 
haps we  are  too  sparing  in  the  expenditure  of  our  feel- 
ings. We  live  a  great  deal  in  our  thoughts,  and  that 
spoils  us  to  a  certain  extent.  We  estimate,  but  we  don't 
feel." 

"Did  anything  good  happen  to  you?"  asked  Sofya 
with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sasha,  nodding  her  head.  ''  I  had  a 
whole  night's  talk  with  Vyesovshchikov.  I  didn't  use 
to  like  him.  He  seemed  rude  and  dull.  Undoubtedly  that's 
what  he  was.  A  dark,  immovable  irritation  at  every- 
body lived  in  him.  He  always  used  to  place  himself,  as 
it  were,  like  a  dead  weight  in  the  center  of  things,  and 
wrathfully  say,  *  I,  I,  I.'  There  was  something  bour- 
geois in  this,  low,  and  exasperating."  She  smiled,  and 
again  took  in  everybody  with  her  burning  look. 

"  Now  he  says :  '  Comrades  ' — and  you  ought  to  hear 
how  he  says  it,  with  what  a  stirring,  tender  love.  He 
has  grown  marvelously  simple  and  open-hearted,  and 
possessed  with  a  desire  to  work.  He  has  found  himself, 
he  has  measured  his  power,  and  knows  what  he  is  not. 
But  the  main  thing  is,  a  true  comradely  feeling  has  been 
born  in  him,  a  broad,  loving  comradeship,  which  smiles 
in  the  face  of  every  difficulty  in  life." 

Vlasova  listened  to  Sasha  attentively.  She  was  glad 
to  see  this  girl,  always  so  stern,  now  softened,  cheerful, 
and  happy.  Yet  from  some  deeps  of  her  soul  arose  the 
jealous  thought :   '*  And  how  about  Pasha?  " 

"  He's  entirely  absorbed  in  thoughts  of  the  com- 
rades "  continued  Sasha.     **  And  do  you  know  of  what 

328 


MOTHER 

he  assures  me?    Of  the  necessity  of  arranging  an  esca;  2 
for  them.     He  says  it's  a  very  simple,  easy  matter." 

Sofya  raised  her  head,  and  said  animatedly: 

"And  what  do  you  think,  Sasha?     Is  it  feasible?'^ 

The  mother  trembled  as  she  set  a  cup  of  tea  on  the 
table.  Sasha  knit  her  brows,  her  animation  gone  from 
her.  After  a  moment's  silence,  she  said  in  a  serious 
voice,  but  smiling  in  joyous  confusion: 

''He's  convinced.  If  everything  is  really  as  he  says, 
we  ought  to  try.  It's  our  duty."  She  blushed,  dropped 
into  a  chair,  and  lapsed  into  silence. 

"  My  dear,  dear  girl !  "  the  mother  thought,  smiling. 
Sofya  also  smiled,  and  Nikolay,  looking  tenderly  into 
Sasha's  face,  laughed  quietly.  The  girl  raised  her  head 
with  a  stern  glance  for  all.  Then  she  paled,  and  her  eyes 
flashed,  and  she  said  dryly,  the  offense  she  felt  evident  in 
her  voice: 

"  You're  laughing.  I  understand  you.  You  consider 
me  personally  interested  in  the  case,  don't  you?  " 

''Why,  Sasha?"  asked  Sofya,  rising  and  going  over 
to  her. 

Agitated,  pale,  the  girl  continued: 

"  But  I  decline.  I'll  not  take  any  part  in  deciding 
the  question  if  you  consider  it." 

"  Stop,  Sasha,"  said  Nikolay  calmly. 

The  mother  understood  the  girl.  She  went  to  her  and 
kissed  her  silently  on  her  head.  Sasha  seized  her  hand, 
leaned  her  cheek  on  it,  and  raised  her  reddened  face, 
looking  into  the  mother's  eyes,  troubled  and  happy. 
The  mother  silently  stroked  her  hair.  She  felt  sad  at 
heart.  Sofya  seated  herself  at  Sasha's  side,  her  arm 
over  her  shoulder,  and  said,  smiling  into  the  girl's 
eyes : 

"  You're  a  strange  person." 
329 


MOTHER 

"  Yes,  I  think  I've  grown  foolish/'  Sasha  acknowl- 
edged.    *'  But  I  don't  like  shadows." 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Nikolay  seriously,  but  immediately 
followed  up  the  admonition  by  the  businesslike  remark: 
"  There  can't  be  two  opinions  as  to  the  escape,  if  it's  pos- 
sible to  arrange  it.  But  before  everything,  we  must  know 
whether  the  comrades  in  prison  want  it." 

Sasha  drooped  her  head.  Sofya,  lighting  a  cigarette, 
looked  at  her  brother,  and  with  a  broad  sweep  of  her 
arm  dropped  the  match  in  a  corner. 

"  How  is  it  possible  they  should  not  want  it  ?  "  asked 
the  mother  with  a  sigh.  Sofya  nodded  to  her,  smiling, 
and  walked  over  to  the  window.  The  mother  could  not 
understand  the  failure  of  the  others  to  respond,  and 
looked  at  them  in  perplexity.  She  wanted  so  much  to 
hear  more  about  the  possibility  of  an  escape. 

"  I  must  see  Vyesovshchikov,"  said  Nikolay. 

"  All  right.  To-morrow  I'll  tell  you  when  and  where," 
replied   Sasha. 

*'  What  is  he  going  to  do  ? "  asked  Sofya,  pacing 
through  the  room. 

*'  It's  been  decided  to  make  him  compositor  in  a  new 
printing  place.     Until  then  he'll  stay  with  the  forester." 

Sasha's  brow  lowered.  Her  face  assumed  its  usual 
severe  expression.  Her  voice  sounded  caustic.  Nikolay 
walked  up  to  the  mother,  who  was  washing  cups,  and 
said  to  her: 

'*  You'll  see  Pasha  day  after  to-morrow.  Hand  him  a 
note  when  you're  there.  Do  you  understand  ?  We  must 
know." 

"  I  understand.  I  understand,"  the  mother  answered 
quickly.  '*  I'll  deliver  it  to  him  all  right.  That's  my 
business." 

"  I'm  going,"  Sasha  announced,  and  silently  shook 
330 


MOTHER 

hands  with  everybody.  She  strode  away,  straight  and 
dry-eyed,  with  a  pecuHarly  heavy  tread. 

"  Poor  girl !  "  said  Sofya  softly. 

"  Ye-es,"  Nikolay  drawled.  Sofya  put  her  hand 
on  the  mother's  shoulder  and  gave  her  a  gentle  little 
shake  as  she  sat  in  the  chair. 

"  Would  you  love  such  e  daughter  ? "  and  Sofya 
looked  into  the  mother's  face. 

"  Oh !  If  I  could  see  them  together,  if  only  for  one 
day !  "  exclaimed  Nilovna,  ready  to  weep. 

"  Yes,  a  bit  of  happiness  is  good  for  everybody." 

"But  there  are  no  people  who  want  only  a  bit  of 
happiness,"  remarked  Nikolay ;  "  and  when  there's  much 
of  it,  it  becomes  cheap." 

Sofya  sat  herself  at  the  piano,  and  began  to  play 
something  low  and  doleful. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HE  next  morning  a  number  of  men  and 
women  stood  at  the  gate  of  the  hospital 
waiting  for  the  coffin  of  their  comrade  to 
be  carried  out  to  the  street.  Spies  watch- 
fully circled  about,  their  ears  alert  to  catch 
each  sound,  noting  faces,  manners,  and  words.  From  the 
other  side  of  the  street  a  group  of  policemen  with  re- 
volvers at  their  belts  looked  on.  The  impudence  of  the 
spies,  the  mocking  smiles  of  the  police  ready  to  show 
their  power,  were  strong  provocatives  to  the  crowd. 
Some  joked  to  cover  their  excitement;  others  looked 
down  on  the  ground  sullenly,  trying  not  to  notice  the 
affronts ;  still  others,  unable  to  restrain  their  wrath, 
laughed  in  sarcasm  at  the  government,  which  feared 
people  armed  with  nothing  but  words.  The  pale  blue 
sky  of  autumn  gleamed  upon  the  round,  gray  paving 
stones  of  the  streets,  strewn  with  yellow  leaves,  which 
the  wind  kept  whirling  about  under  the  people's  feet. 

The  mother  stood  in  the  crowd.  She  looked  around 
at  the  familiar  faces  and  thought  with  sadness :  *'  There 
aren't  many  of  you,  not  many." 

The  gate  opened,  and  the  coffin,  decorated  with 
wreaths  tied  with  red  ribbons,  was  carried  out.  The 
people,  as  if  inspired  with  one  will,  silently  raised  their 
hats.  A  tall  officer  of  police  with  a  thick  black  mustache 
on  a  red  face  unceremoniously  jostled  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  followed  by  the  soldiers,  whose  heavy  boots 

332 


MOTHER 

trampled  loudly  on  the  stones.  They  made  a  cordon 
I  around  the  coffin,  and  the  officer  said  in  a  hoarse,  com- 
[manding  voice: 

"  Remove  the  ribbons,  please !  " 

The    men   and   women    pressed   closely    about   him. 
^  They  called  to  him,  waving  their  hands  excitedly  and  try- 
ing to  push  past  one  another.     The  mother  caught  the 
flash  of  pale,  agitated  countenances,  some  of  them  with 
quivering  lips  and  tears. 

"  Down  with  violence !  "  a  young  voice  shouted  nerv- 
ously. But  the  lonely  outcry  was  lost  in  the  general 
clamor. 

The  mother  also  felt  bitterness  in  her  heart.  She 
turned  in  indignation  to  her  neighbor,  a  poorly  dressed 
young  man. 

"  They  don't  permit  a  man's  comrades  even  to  bury 
him  as  they  want  to.    What  do  they  mean  by  it  ?  " 

The  hubbub  increased  and  hostility  waxed  strong. 
The  coffin  rocked  over  the  heads  of  the  people.  The 
silken  rustling  of  the  ribbons  fluttering  in  the  wind  about 
the  heads  and  faces  of  the  carriers  could  be  heard  amid 
the  noise  of  the  strife. 

The  mother  was  seized  with  a  shuddering  dread  of 
the  possible  collision,  and  she  quickly  spoke  in  an  under- 
tone to  her  neighbors  on  the  right  and  on  the  left : 

"  Why  not  let  them  have  their  way  if  they're  like 
that?  The  comrades  ought  to  yield  and  remove  the  rib- 
bons.   What  else  can  they  do  ?  " 

A  loud,  sharp  voice  subdued  all  the  other  noises: 

"  We  demand  not  to  be  disturbed  in  accompanying  on 
his  last  journey  one  whom  you  tortured  to  death !  " 

Somebody — apparently  a  girl — sang  out  in  a  high, 
piping  voice : 

"  In  mortal  strife  your  victims  fell." 
333 


moth:er 

"  Remove  the  ribbons,  please,  Yakovlev !  Cut  them 
off!" 

A  saber  was  heard  issuing  from  its  scabbard.  The 
mother  closed  her  eyes,  awaiting  shouts ;  but  it  grew 
quieter. 

The  people  growled  like  wolves  at  bay ;  then  silently 
drooping  their  heads,  crushed  by  the  consciousness  of 
impotence,  they  moved  forward,  filling  the  street  with 
the  noise  of  their  tramping.  Before  them  swayed  the 
stripped  cover  of  the  coffin  with  the  crumpled  wreaths, 
and  swinging  from  side  to  side  rode  the  mounted  police. 
The  mother  walked  on  the  pavement ;  she  was  unable  to 
see  the  coffin  through  the  dense  crowd  surrounding  it, 
which  imperceptibly  grew  and  filled  the  whole  breadth  of 
the  street.  Back  of  the  crowd  also  rose  the  gray  figures 
of  the  mounted  police;  at  their  sides,  holding  their 
hands  on  their  sabers,  marched  the  policemen  on  foot, 
and  everywhere  were  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  spies,  famil- 
iar to  the  mother,  carefully  scanning  the  faces  of  the 
people. 

"  Good-by,  comrade,  good-by !  "  plaintively  sang  two 
beautiful  voices. 

"  Don't !  "  a  shout  was  heard.  "  We  will  be  silent, 
comrades — for  the  present." 

The  shout  was  stern  and  imposing;  it  carried  an 
assuring  threat,  and  it  subdued  the  crowd.  The  sad 
songs  broke  off ;  the  talking  became  lower ;  only  the  noise 
of  heavy  tramping  on  the  stones  filled  the  street  with 
its  dull,  even  sound.  Over  the  heads  of  the  people,  into 
the  transparent  sky,  and  through  the  air  it  rose  like  the 
first  peal  of  distant  thunder.  People  silently  bore  grief 
and  revolt  in  their  breasts.  Was  it  possible  to  carry  on 
the  war  for  freedom  peacefully?  A  vain  illusion! 
Hatred  of  violence,  love  of  freedom  blazed  up  and  burned 

334 


MOTHER 

the  last  remnants  of  the  illusion  to  ashes  in  the  hearts 
that  still  cherished  it.  The  steps  became  heavier,  heads 
were  raised,  eyes  looked  cold  and  firm,  and  feeling,  out- 
stripping thought,  brought  forth  resolve.  The  cold  wind, 
waxing  stronger  and  stronger,  carried  an  unfriendly  cloud 
of  dust  and  street  litter  in  front  of  the  people.  It  blew 
through  their  garments  and  their  hair,  blinded  their  eyes 
and  struck  against  their  breasts. 

The  mother  was  pained  by  these  silent  funerals  with- 
out priests  and  heart-oppressing  chants,  with  thought- 
ful faces,  frowning  brows,  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  the 
feet.  Her  slowly  circling  thoughts  formulated  her  im- 
pression in  the  melancholy  phrase : 

"  There  are  not  many  of  you  who  stand  up  for  the 
truth,  not  many ;  and  yet  they  fear  you,  they  fear  you !  " 

Her  head  bent,  she  strode  along  without  looking 
around.  It  seemed  to  her  that  they  were  burying,  not 
Yegor,  but  something  else  unknown  and  incomprehensi- 
ble to  her. 

At  the  cemetery  the  procession  for  a  long  time  moved 
in  and  out  along  the  narrow  paths  amid  the  tombs  until 
an  open  space  was  reached,  which  was  sprinkled  with 
wretched  little  crosses.  The  people  gathered  about  the 
graves  in  silence.  This  austere  silence  of  the  living  among 
the  dead  promised  something  strange,  which  caused  the 
mother's  heart  to  tremble  and  sink  with  expectation.  The 
wind  whistled  and  sighed  among  the  graves.  The  flowers 
trembled  on  the  lid  of  the  coffin. 

The  police,  stretching  out  in  a  line,  assumed  an  atti- 
tude of  guard,  their  eyes  on  their  captain.  A  tall,  long- 
haired, black-browed,  pale  young  man  without  a  hat  stood 
over  the  fresh  grave.  At  the  same  time  the  hoarse  voice 
of  the  captain  was  heard : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  J  " 
335 


MOTHER 

"  Comrades !  "  began  the  black-browed  man  sono- 
rously. 

"  Permit  me !  "  shouted  the  police  captain.  "  In  pur- 
suance of  the  order  of  the  chief  of  police  I  announce  to 
you  that  I  cannot  permit  a  speech !  " 

"  I  will  say  only  a  few  words,"  the  young  man  said 
calmly.  "  Comrades !  over  the  grave  of  our  teacher  and 
friend  let  us  vow  in  silence  never  to  forget  his  will;  let 
each  one  of  us  continue  without  ceasing  to  dig  the  grave 
for  the  source  of  our  country's  misfortune,  the  evil  power 
that  crushes  it — the  autocracy !  " 

"  Arrest  him !  "  ohouted  the  police  captain.  But  his 
voice  was  drowned  in  the  confused  outburst  of  shouts. 

"  Down  with  the  autocracy ! '' 

The  police  rushed  through  the  crowd  toward  the  ora- 
tor, who,  closely  surrounded  on  all  sides,  shouted,  wav- 
ing his  hand: 

''  Long  live  liberty !    We  will  live  and  die  for  it !  " 

The  mother  shut  her  eyes  in  momentary  fear.  The 
boisterous  tempest  of  confused  sounds  deafened  her. 
The  earth  rocked  under  her  feet;  terror  impeded  her 
breathing.  The  startling  whistles  of  the  policemen 
pierced  the  air.  The  rude,  commanding  voice  of  the  cap- 
tain was  heard ;  the  women  cried  hysterically.  The 
wooden  fences  cracked,  and  the  heavy  tread  of  many 
feet  sounded  dully  on  the  dry  ground.  A  sonorous 
voice,  subduing  all  the  other  voices,  blared  Hke  a  war 
trumpet : 

"  Comrades !  Calm  yourselves !  Have  more  respect 
for  yourselves !  Let  me  go !  Comrades,  I  insist,  let  me 
go!" 

The  mother  looked  up,  and  uttered  a  low  exclamation. 
A  blind  impulse  carried  her  forward  with  outstretched 
hands.     Not  far  from  her,  on  a  worn  path  between  the 

33^ 


MOTHER 

graves,  the  policemen  were  surrounding-  the  long-haired 
man  and  repelling  the  crowd  that  fell  upon  them  from 
all  sides.  The  unsheathed  bayonets  flashed  white  and 
cold  in  the  air,  flying  over  the  heads  of  the  people,  and 
falling  quickly  again  with  a  spiteful  hiss.  Broken  bits  of 
the  fence  were  brandished ;  the  baleful  shouts  of  the 
struggling  people  rose  wildly. 

The  young  man  lifted  his  pale  face,  and  his  firm,  calm 
voice  sounded  above  the  storm  of  irritated  outcries : 

*'  Comrades  !  Why  do  you  spend  your  strength  ?  Our 
task  is  to  arm  the  heads." 

He  conquered.  Throwing  away  their  sticks,  the  peo- 
ple dropped  out  of  the  throng  one  after  the  other;  and 
the  mother  pushed  forward.  She  saw  how  Nikolay,  with 
his  hat  fallen  back  on  his  neck,  thrust  aside  the  people, 
intoxicated  with  the  commotion,  and  heard  his  reproach- 
ful voice: 

"  Have  you   lost   your   senses  ?     Calm  yourselves !  " 

It  seemed  to  her  that  one  of  his  hands  was  red. 

"  Nikolay  Ivanovich,  go  away !  "  she  shouted,  rushing 
toward  him. 

"Where  are  you  going?     They'll  strike  you  there!" 

She  stopped.  Seizing  her  by  the  shoulder,  Sofya  stood 
at  her  side,  hatless,  her  jacket  open,  her  other  hand 
grasping  a  young,  light-haired  man,  almost  a  boy.  He 
held  his  hands  to  his  bruised  face,  and  he  muttered  with 
tremulous  lips :    "  Let  me  go !    It's  nothing." 

"  Take  care  of  him  !  Take  him  home  to  us !  Here's 
a  handkerchief.  Bandage  his  face !  "  Sofya  gave  the 
rapid  orders,  and  putting  his  hand  into  the  mother's  ran 
away,  saying: 

"  Get  out  of  this  place  quickly,  else  they'll  arrest  you !  " 

The  people  scattered  all  over  the  cemetery.  After 
them  the  policemen  strode  heavily   among  the   graves, 

337 


MOTHER 

clumsily  entang-ling  themselves  in  the  flaps  of  their  mili- 
tary coats,  cursing,  and  brandishing  their  bayonets. 

"  Let's  hurry !  "  said  the  mother,  wiping  the  boy's 
face  with  the  handkerchief.     "  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Ivan."  Blood  spurted  from  his  mouth.  "  Don't 
be  worried ;  I  don't  feel  hurt.  He  hit  me  over  the  head 
with  the  handle  of  his  saber,  and  I  gave  him  such  a  blow 
with  a  stick  that  he  howled,"  the  boy  concluded,  shaking 
his  blood-stained  fist.  "  Wait— it'll  be  different.  We'll 
choke  you  without  a  fight,  when  we  arise,  all  the  working 
people." 

"  Quick — hurry !  "  The  mother  urged  him  on,  walk- 
ing swiftly  toward  the  little  wicket  gate.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  there,  behind  the  fence  in  the  field,  the  police  were 
lying  in  wait  for  them,  ready  to  pounce  on  them  and  beat 
them  as  soon  as  they  went  out.  But  on  carefully  opening 
the  gate,  and  looking  out  over  the  field  clothed  in  the 
gray  garb  of  autumn  dusk,  its  stillness  and  solitude  at 
once  gave  her  composure. 

"  Let  me  bandage  your  face." 

"  Never  mind.  I'm  not  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  it 
as  it  is.  The  fight  was  honorable  —  he  hit  me  —  I  hit 
him " 

The  mother  hurriedly  bandaged  his  wound.  The 
sight  of  fresh,  flowing  blood  filled  her  breast  with  ter- 
ror and  pity.  Its  humid  warmth  on  her  fingers  sent  a 
cold,  fine  tremor  through  her  body.  Then,  holding  his 
hand,  she  silently  and  quickly  conducted  the  wounded 
youth  through  the  field.  Freeing  his  mouth  of  the  band- 
age, he  said  with  a  smile : 

'*  But  where  are  you  taking  me,  comrade?  I  can  go 
by  myself." 

But  the  mother  perceived  that  he  was  reeling  with 
faintness,  that   his   legs   were  unsteadv,   and   his   hands 

338 


MOTHER 

twitched.  He  spoke  to  her  in  a  weak  voice,  and  ques- 
tioned her  without  waiting  for  an  answer: 

"  I'm  a  tinsmith,  and  who  are  you  ?  There  were 
three  of  us  in  Yegor  Ivanovich's  circle — three  tinsmiths 
— and  there  were  twelve  men  in  all.  We  loved  him  very 
much — may  he  have  eternal  life! — although  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  God — it's  they,  the  dogs,  that  dupe  us  with  God, 
so  that  we  should  obey  the  authorities  and  suffer  life  pa- 
tiently without  kicking." 

In  one  of  the  streets  the  mother  hailed  a  cab  and  put 
Ivan  into  it.  She  whispered,  "  Now  be  silent,"  and  care- 
fully wrapped  his  face  up  in  the  handkerchief.  He 
raised  his  hand  to  his  face,  but  was  no  longer  able  to  free 
his  mouth.  His  hand  fell  feebly  on  his  knees ;  neverthe- 
less he  continued  to  mutter  through  the  bandages : 

'*  I  won't  forget  those  blows ;  I'll  score  them  against 
you,  my  dear  sirs !  With  Yegor  there  was  another  stu- 
dent, Titovich,  who  taught  us  political  economy — he 
was  a  very  stern,  tedious  fellow — he  was  arrested." 

The  mother,  drawing  the  boy  to  her,  put  his  head  on 
her  bosom  in  order  to  muffle  his  voice.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary, however,  for  he  suddenly  grew  heavy  and  silent.  In 
awful  fear,  she  looked  about  sidewise  out  of  the  corners 
of  her  eyes.  She  felt  that  the  policemen  would  issue  from 
some  corner,  would  see  Ivan's  bandaged  head,  would 
seize  him  and  kill  him. 

"Been  drinking?"  asked  the  driver,  turning  on  the 
box  with  a  benignant  smile. 

"  Pretty  full." 

"Your  son?" 

"  Yes,  a  shoemaker.     I'm  a  cook." 

Shaking  the  whip  over  the  horse,  the  driver  again 
turned,  and  continued  in  a  lowered  voice : 

"  I  heard  there  was  a  row  in  the  cemetery  just  now. 
339 


MOTHER 

You  see,  they  were  burying  one  of  the  poUticals,  one  of 
those  who  are  against  the  authorities.  They  have  a  crow 
to  pick  with  the  authorities.  He  was  buried  by  fellows 
like  him,  his  friends,  it  must  be ;  and  they  up  and  begin 
to  shout :  '  Down  with  the  authorities  !  They  ruin  the  peo- 
ple/ The  police  began  to  beat  them.  It's  said  some  were 
hewed  down  and  killed.  But  the  police  got  it,  too."  He 
was  silent,  shaking  his  head  as  if  afflicted  by  some  sorrow, 
and  uttered  in  a  strange  voice :  "  They  don't  even  let  the 
dead  alone;  they  even  bother  people  in  their  graves." 

The  cab  rattled  over  the  stones.  Ivan's  head  jostled 
softly  against  the  mother's  bosom.  The  driver,  sitting 
half-turned  from  his  horse,  mumbled  thoughtfully: 

"  The  people  are  beginning  to  boil.  Every  now  and 
then  some  disorder  crops  out.  Yes !  Last  night  the 
gendarmes  came  to  our  neighbors,  and  kept  up  an  ado 
till  morning,  and  in  the  morning  they  led  away  a  black- 
smith. It's  said  they'll  take  him  to  the  river  at  night 
and  drown  him.  And  the  blacksmith — well — he  was  a 
wise  man — he  understood  a  great  deal — and  to  under- 
stand, it  seems,  is  forbidden.  He  used  to  come  to  us  and 
say :  *  What  sort  of  life  is  the  cabman's  life  ?  '  '  It's  true,' 
we  say,  '  the  life  of  a  cabman  is  worse  than  a  dog's.' " 

"  Stop !  "  the  mother  said. 

Ivan  awoke  from  the  shock  of  the  sudden  halt,  and 
groaned  softly. 

**  It  shook  him  up !  "  remarked  the  driver.  *''  Oh, 
whisky,  whisky !  " 

Ivan  shifted  his  feet  about  with  difficulty.  His  whole 
body  swaying,  he  walked  through  the  entrance,  and  said ; 

"  Nothing — comrade,  I  can  get  along." 


CHAPTER   IX 

OFYA  was  already  at  home  when  they 
reached  the  house.  She  met  the  mother 
with  a  cigarette  in  her  teeth.  She  was 
somewhat  ruffled,  but,  as  usual,  bold  and 
assured  of  manner.  Putting  the  wounded 
man  on  the  sofa,  she  deftly  unbound  his  head,  giving 
orders  and  screwing  up  her  eyes  from  the  smoke  of  her 
cigarette. 

"  Ivan  Danilovich !  "  she  called  out.  "  He's  been 
brought  here.  You  are  tired,  Nilovna.  YouVe  had 
enough  fright,  haven't  you?  Well,  rest  now.  Nikolay, 
quick,  give  Nilovna  some  tea  and  a  glass  of  port." 

Dizzied  by  her  experience,  the  mother  breathing  heav- 
ily and  feeling  a  sickly  pricking  in  her  breast,  said: 
"  Don't  bother  about  me." 

But  her  entire  anxious  being  begged  for  attention  and 
kindnesses. 

From  the  next  room  entered  Nikolay  with  a  bandaged 
hand,  and  the  doctor,  Ivan  Danilovich,  all  disheveled, 
his  hair  standing  on  end  like  the  spines  of  a  hedgehog. 
He  quickly  stepped  to  Ivan,  bent  over  him,  and  said: 

"  Water,  Sofya  Ivanovich,  more  water,  clean  linen 
strips,  and  cotton." 

The  mother  walked  toward  the  kitchen;  but  Nikolay 
took  her  by  the  arm  with  his  left  hand,  and  led  her  into 
the  dining  room. 

"  He  didn't  speak  to  you ;  he  was  speaking  to  Sofya. 
341 


MOTHER 

YouVe  had  enough  sufifering,  my  dear  woman,  haven't 
you  ?  " 

The  mother  met  Nikolay's  fixed,  sympathetic  glance, 
and,  pressing  his  head,  exclaimed  with  a  groan  she  could 
not  restrain: 

**  Oh,  my  darling,  how  fearful  it  was !  They  mowed 
the  comrades  down  !     They  mowed  them  down !  " 

"  I  saw  it,"  said  Nikolay,  giving  her  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  nodding  his  head.  **  Both  sides  grew  a  little 
heated.  But  don't  be  uneasy ;  they  used  the  flats  of  their 
swords,  and  it  seems  only  one  was  seriously  wounded. 
I  saw  him  struck,  and  I  myself  carried  him  out  of  the 
crowd." 

His  face  and  voice,  and  the  warmth  and  brightness 
of  the  room  quieted  Vlasova.  Looking  gratefully  at 
him,  she  asked: 

"Did  they  hit  you,  too?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  myself  through  carelessness 
knocked  my  hand  against  something  and  tore  off  the 
skin.  Drink  some  tea.  The  weather  is  cold  and  you're 
dressed  lightly." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  cup  and  saw  that 
her  fingers  were  stained  with  dark  clots  of  blood.  She 
instinctively  dropped  her  hands  on  her  knees.  Her  skirt 
was  damp.  Ivan  Danilovich  came  in  in  his  vest,  his 
shirt  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  in  response  to  Nikolay's  mute 
question,  said  in  his  thin  voice : 

"  The  wound  on  his  face  is  slight.  His  skull,  how- 
ever, is  fractured,  but  not  very  badly.  He's  a  strong 
fellow,  but  he's  lost  a  lot  of  blood.  We'll  take  him  over 
to  the  hospital." 

"  Why  ?    Let  him  stay  here !  "  exclaimed  Nikolay. 

"  To-day  he  may  ;  and — well — to-morrow,  too ;  but 
after  that  it'll  be  more  convenient  for  us  to  have  him 

342 


MOTHER 

at  the  hospital.  I  have  no  time  to  pay  visits.  You'll 
write  a  leaflet  about  the  affair  at  the  cemetery,  won't 
you?" 

"Of  course!" 

The  mother  rose  quietly  and  walked  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Nilovna  ?  "  Nikolay  stopped 
her  with  solicitude.    "  Sofya  can  get  along  by  herself." 

She  looked  at  him  and  started  and  smiled  strangely. 

''  I'm  all  covered  with  blood." 

While  changing  her  dress  she  once  again  thought  of 
the  calmness  of  these  people,  of  their  ability  to  recover 
from  the  horrible,  an  ability  which  clearly  testified  to 
their  manly  readiness  to  meet  any  demand  made  on  them 
for  work  in  the  cause  of  truth.  This  thought,  steadying 
the  mother,  drove  fear  from  her  heart. 

When  she  returned  to  the  room  where  the  sick  man 
lay,  she  heard  Sofya  say,  as  she  bent  over  him : 

"  That's  nonsense,  comrade !  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  incommode  you,"  he  said  faintly. 

"  You  keep  still.    That's  better  for  you." 

The  mother  stood  back  of  Sofya,  and  putting  her 
hand  on  her  shoulders  peered  with  a  smile  into  the  face 
of  the  sick  man.  She  related  how  he  had  raved  in 
the  presence  of  the  cabman  and  frightened  her  by  his 
lack  of  caution.  Ivan  heard  her ;  his  eyes  turned  fever- 
ishly, he  smacked  his  lips,  and  at  times  exclaimed  in  a 
confused  low  voice :  "  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  am !  " 

''  We'll  leave  you  here,"  Sofya  said,  straightening  out 
the  blanket.     "  Rest." 

The  mother  and  Sofya  went  to  the  dining  room  and 
conversed  there  in  subdued  voices  about  the  events  of  the 
day.  They  already  regarded  the  drama  of  the  burial 
as  something  remote,  and  looked  with  assurance  toward 
the  future  in  deliberating  on  the  work  of  the  morrow. 

343 


MOTHER 

Their  faces  wore  a  weary  expression,  but  their  thoughts 
were  bold. 

They  spoke  of  their  dissatisfaction  with  themselves. 
Nervously  moving  in  his  chair  and  gesticulating  ani- 
matedly the  physician,  dulling  his  thin,  sharp  voice  with 
afn  effort,  said : 

''  Propaganda  !  propaganda !  There's  too  little  of  it 
now.  The  }-oung  workingmen  are  right.  We  must  ex- 
tend the  field  of  agitation.  The  workingmen  are  right, 
I  say." 

Nikolay  answered  somberly: 

"  From  everywhere  come  complaints  of  not  enough 
literature,  and  we  still  cannot  get  a  good  printing  estab- 
lishment. Liudmila  is  wearing  herself  out.  She'll  get 
sick  if  we  don't  see  that  she  gets  assistance." 

"And  Vyesovshchikov  ?  "  asked  Sofya. 

"  He  cannot  live  in  the  city.  He  won't  be  able  to  go 
to  work  until  he  can  enter  the  new  printing  establish- 
ment.   And  one  man  is  still  needed  for  it." 

"  Won't  I  do  ?  "  the  mother  asked  quietly. 

All  three  looked  at  her  in  silence  for  a  short  while. 

"  No,  it's  too  hard  for  you,  Nilovna,"  said  Nikolay. 
"  You'll  have  to  live  outside  the  city  and  stop  your  visits 
to  Pavel,  and  in  general " 

With  a  sigh  the  mother  said: 

"  For  Pasha  it  won't  be  a  great  loss.  And  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned  these  visits,  too,  are  a  torment ;  they  tear 
out  my  heart.  Fm  not  allowed  to  speak  of  anything;  I 
stand  opposite  my  son  like  a  fool.  And  they  look  into 
my  mouth  and  wait  to  see  something  come  out  that 
oughtn't." 

Sofya  groped  for  the  mother's  hand  under  the  table 
and  pressed  it  warmly  with  her  thin  fingers.  Nikolay 
looked  at  the  mother  fixedly  while  explaining  to  her  that 

344 


MOTHER 

she  would  have  to  serve  in  the  new  printing  establishment 
as  a  protection  to  the  workers. 

''  I  understand,"  she  said.  "  I'll  be  a  cook.  I'll  be 
able  to  do  it;  I  can  imagine  what's  needed." 

"  How  persistent  you  are !  "  remarked  Sofya. 

The  events  of  the  last  few  days  had  exhausted  the 
'  mother ;  and  now  as  she  heard  of  the  possibility  of  living 
'  outside  the  city,  away  from  its  bustle,  she  greedily 
i  grasped  at  the  chance. 

But  Nikolay  changed  the  subject  of  conversation. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Ivan  ?  "  He  turned 
to  the  physician. 

Raising  his  head  from  the  table,  the  physician  an- 
swered sullenly : 

"  There  are  too  few  of  us.  That's  what  I'm  thinking 
of.  We  positively  must  begin  to  work  more  energet- 
ically, and  we  must  persuade  Pavel  and  Audrey  to 
escape.  They  are  both  too  invaluable  to  be  sitting  there 
idle." 

Nikolay  lowered  his  brows  and  shook  his  head  in 
doubt,  darting  a  glance  at  the  mother. 

As  she  realized  the  embarrassment  they  must  feel  in 
speaking  of  her  son  in  her  presence,  she  walked  out  into 
her  own  room. 

There,  lying  in  bed  with  open  eyes,  the  murmur  of 
low  talking  in  her  ears,  she  gave  herself  up  to  anxious 
thoughts.  She  wanted  to  see  her  son  at  liberty,  but  at 
the  same  time  the  idea  of  freeing  him  frightened  her. 
She  felt  that  the  struggle  around  her  was  growing  keener 
and  that  a  sharp  collision  was  threatening.  The  silent 
patience  of  the  people  was  wearing  away,  yielding  to  a 
strained  expectation  of  something  new.  The  excitement 
was  growing  perceptibly.  Bitter  words  were  tossed 
about.     Something  novel  and  stirring  was  wafted  from 

345 


MOTHER 

all  quarters;  every  proclamation  evoked  lively  discus- 
sions in  the  market  place,  in  the  shops,  among  servants, 
among  workingmen.  Every  arrest  aroused  a  timid,  un- 
comprehending, and  sometimes  unconscious  sympathy 
when  judgment  regarding  the  causes  of  the  arrest  was 
expressed.  She  heard  the  words  that  had  once  fright- 
ened her  —  riot,  socialism,  politics  —  uttered  more  and 
more  frequently  among  the  simple  folk,  though  accom- 
panied by  derision.  However,  behind  their  ridicule  it 
was  impossible  to  conceal  an  eagerness  to  understand, 
mingled  with  fear  and  hope,  with  hatred  of  tlie  masters 
and  threats  against  them. 

Agitation  disturbed  the  settled,  dark  life  of  the  people 
in  slow  but  wide  circles.  Dormant  thoughts  awoke,  and 
•men  were  shaken  from  their  usual  forced  calm  attitude 
toward  daily  events.  All  this  the  mother  saw  more 
clearly  than  others,  because  she,  better  than  they,  knew 
the  dismal,  dead  face  of  existence ;  she  stood  nearer  to 
it,  and  now  saw  upon  it  the  wrinkles  of  hesitation  and 
turmoil,  the  vague  hunger  for  the  new.  She  both  rejoiced 
over  the  change  and  feared  it.  She  rejoiced  because 
she  regarded  this  as  the  cause  of  her  son ;  she  feared  be- 
cause she  knew  that  if  he  emerged  from  prison  he  would 
stand  at  the  head  of  all,  in  the  most  dangerous  place,  and 
— he  would  perish. 

She  often  felt  great  thoughts  needful  to  everybody 
stirring  in  her  bosom,  but  scarcely  ever  was  able  to  make 
them  live  in  words ;  and  they  oppressed  her  heart  with  a 
dumb,  heavy  sadness.  Sometimes  the  image  of  her  son 
grew  before  her  until  it  assumed  the  proportions  of  a 
giant  in  the  old  fairy  tales.  He  united  within  himself  all 
the  honest  thoughts  she  had  heard  spoken,  all  the  people 
that  she  liked,  everything  heroic  of  which  she  knew. 
Then,  moved  with  delight  in  him,  she  exulted  in  quiet 

346 


MOTHER 

rapture.  An  indistinct  hope  filled  her.  "  Everything  will 
be  well — everything !  "  Her  love,  the  love  of  a  mother, 
was  fanned  into  a  flame,  a  veritable  pain  to  her  heart. 
Then  the  motherly  affection  hindered  the  growth  of  the 
broader  human  feeling,  burned  it ;  and  in  place  of  a  great 
sentiment  a  small,  dismal  thought  beat  faint-heartedly 
in  the  gray  ashes  of  alarm :  "  He  will  perish ;  he  will 
fall!" 

Late  that  night  the  mother  sank  into  a  heavy  sleep, 
but  rose  early,  her  bones  stiff,  her  head  aching.  At  mid- 
day she  was  sitting  in  the  prison  office  opposite  Pavel 
and  looking  through  a  mist  in  her  eyes  at  his  bearded, 
swarthy  face.  She  was  watching  for  a  chance  to  deliver 
to  him  the  note  she  held  tightly  in  her  hand. 

"  I  am  well  and  all  are  well,"  said  Pavel  in  a  mod- 
erated voice.    "  And  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  So  so.  Yegor  Ivanovich  died,"  she  said  mechan- 
ically. 

"  Yes  ?  "  exclaimed  Pavel,  and  dropped  his  head. 

"  At  the  funeral  the  police  got  up  a  fight  and  ar- 
rested one  man,"  the  mother  continued  in  her  simple- 
hearted  way. 

The  thin-lipped  assistant  overseer  of  the  prison 
jumped  from  his  chair  and  mumbled  quickly : 

"  Cut  that  out ;  it's  forbidden !  Why  don't  you 
understand?    You  know  politics  are  prohibited." 

The  mother  also  rose  from  her  chair,  and  as  if  failing 
to  comprehend  him,  she  said  guiltily : 

"  I  wasn't  discussing  politics.  I  was  telling  about  a 
fight — and  they  did  fight;  that's  true.  They  even  broke 
one  fellow's  head." 

"  All  the  same,  please  keep  quiet — that  is  to  say,  keep 
quiet  about  everything  that  doesn't  concern  you  person- 
ally— your  family;  in  general,  your  home." 
33  347 


MOTHER 

Aware  that  his  speech  was  confused,  he  sat  down  in 
his  chair  and  arranged  papers. 

"  I'm  responsible  for  what  you  say,"  he  said  sadly 
and  wearily. 

The  mother  looked  around  and  quickly  thrust  the  note 
into  Pavel's  hand.    She  breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  speak  about." 

Pavel  smiled : 

"  I  don't  know  either." 

"  Then  why  pay  visits  ?  "  said  the  overseer  excitedly. 
"  They  have  nothing  to  say,  but  they  come  here  anyhow 
and  bother  me." 

"Will  the  trial  take  place  soon?"  asked  the  mother 
after  a  pause. 

"  The  procurator  was  here  the  other  day,  and  he  said 
it  will  come  off  soon." 

"  You've  been  in  prison  half  a  year  already !  " 

They  spoke  to  each  other  about  matters  of  no  signifi- 
cance to  either.  The  mother  saw  Pavel's  eyes  look  into 
her  face  softly  and  lovingly.  Even  and  calm  as  before, 
he  had  not  changed,  save  that  his  wrists  were  whiter,  and 
his  beard,  grown  long,  made  him  look  older.  The  mother 
experienced  a  strong  desire  to  do  something  pleasant  for 
him — tell  him  about  Vyesovshchikov,  for  instance.  So, 
without  changing  her  tone,  she  continued  in  the  same 
voice  In  which  she  spoke  of  the  needless  and  uninterest- 
ing things. 

"  I  saw  your  godchild."  Pavel  fixed  a  silent  question- 
ing look  on  her  eyes.  She  tapped  her  fingers  on  her 
cheeks  to  picture  to  him  the  pockmarked  face  of  Vyes- 
ovshchikov. 

"  He's  all  right !  The  boy  Is  alive  and  well.  He'll 
soon  get  his  position  —  you  remember  how  he  always 
asked  for  hard  work  ?  " 

348 


MOTHER 

Pavel  understood,  and  gratefully  nodded  his  head. 
"  Why,  of  course  I  remember ! "  he  answered,  with  a 
cheery  smile  in  his  eyes. 

"  Very  well !  "  the  mother  uttered  in  a  satisfied  tone, 
content  with  herself  and  moved  by  his  joy. 

On  parting  with  her  he  held  her  hand  in  a  firm  clasp. 

"  Thank  you,  mamma ! "  The  joyous  feeling  of 
hearty  nearness  to  him  mounted  to  her  head  like  a  strong 
drink.  Powerless  to  answer  in  words,  she  merely  pressed 
his  hand. 

At  home  she  found  Sasha.  The  girl  usually  came 
to  Nilovna  on  the  days  when  the  mother  had  visited 
Pavel. 

"Well,  how  is  he?" 

"  He's  well." 

"  Did  you  hand  him  the  note  ?  " 

"  Of  course !    I  stuck  it  into  his  hands  very  cleverly." 

"Did  he  read  it?" 

"  On  the  spot  ?    How  could  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  forgot !  Let  us  wait  another  week,  one 
week  longer.    Do  you  think  he'll  agree  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  think  he  will,"  the  mother  delib- 
erated. "  Why  shouldn't  he  if  he  can  do  so  without 
danger  ?  " 

Sasha  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  sick  man  is  allowed  to  eat  ? 
He's  asked  for  some  food." 

"  Anything  at  all.  I'll  get  him  something  at  once." 
The  mother  walked  into  the  kitchen,  slowly  followed  by 
Sasha. 

"  Can  I  help  you?  " 

"Thank  you!     Why  should  you?" 

The  mother  bent  at  the  oven  to  get  a  pot.  The  girl 
said  in  a  low  voice : 

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MOTHER 

"Wait!" 

Her  face  paled,  her  eyes  opened  sadly  and  her  quiv- 
ering lips  whispered  hotly  with  an  effort : 

"  I  want  to  beg  you — I  know  he  will  not  agree — try  to 
persuade  him.  He's  needed.  Tell  him  he's  essential, 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  cause  —  tell  him  I  fear 
he'll  get  sick.  You  see  the  date  of  the  trial  hasn't  been 
set  yet,  and  six  months  have  already  passed — I  beg  of 
you!" 

It  was  apparent  that  she  spoke  with  difficulty.  She 
stood  up  straight,  in  a  tense  attitude,  and  looked  aside. 
Her  voice  sounded  uneven,  like  the  snapping  of  a  taut 
string.  Her  eyelids  drooping  wearily,  she  bit  her  lips, 
and  the  fingers  of  her  compressed  hand  cracked. 

The  mother  was  ruffled  by  her  outburst ;  but  she  under- 
stood it,  and  a  sad  emotion  took  possession  of  her.  Softly 
embracing  Sasha,  she  answered  : 

"  My  dear,  he  will  never  listen  to  anybody  except 
himself — never !  " 

For  a  short  while  they  were  both  silent  in  a  close  em- 
brace. Then  Sasha  carefully  removed  the  mother's  hands 
from  her  shoulders. 

"  Yes,  you're  right,"  she  said  in  a  tremble.  "  It's  all 
stupidity  and  nerves.  One  gets  so  tired."  And,  sud- 
denly growing  serious,  she  concluded :  "  Anyway,  let's 
give  the  sick  man  something  to  eat." 

In  an  instant  she  was  sitting  at  Ivan's  bed,  kindly  and 
solicitously  inquiring,  "  Does  your  head  ache  badly  ?  " 

"  Not  very.  Only  everything  is  muddled  up,  and  I'm 
weak,"  answered  Ivan  in  embarrassment.  He  pulled  the 
blanket  up  to  his  chin,  and  screwed  up  his  eyes  as  if 
dazzled  by  too  brilliant  a  light.  Noticing  that  she  embar- 
rassed him  by  her  presence  and  that  he  could  not  make 
up  his  mind  to  eat,  Sasha  rose  and  walked  away.    Then 

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MOTHER 

Ivan  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  at  the  door  through  which 
she  had  left. 

"  Be-au-tiful !  "  he  murmured. 

His  eyes  were  bright  and  merry;  his  teeth  fine  and 
compact;  his  young  voice  was  not  yet  steady  as  an 
adult's. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  the  mother  asked  thoughtfully. 

"  Seventeen  years." 

"  Where  are  your  parents  ?  " 

"  In  the  village.  I've  been  here  since  I  was  ten  years 
old.  I  got  through  school  and  came  here.  And  what  is 
your  name,  comrade  ?  " 

This  word,  when  applied  to  her,  always  brought  a 
smile  to  the  mother's  face  and  touched  her. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know?  " 

The  youth,  after  an  embarrassed  pause,  explained: 

"•You  see,  a  student  of  our  circle,  that  is,  a  fellow 
who  used  to  read  to  us,  told  us  about  Pavel's  mother — 
a  workingman,  you  know — and  about  the  first  of  May 
demonstration." 

She  nodded  her  head  and  pricked  up  her  ears. 

"  He  was  the  first  one  who  openly  displayed  the  ban- 
ner of  our  party,"  the  youth  declared  with  pride — a  pride 
which  found  a  response  in  the  mother's  heart. 

"  I  wasn't  present ;  we  were  then  thinking  of  making 
our  own  demonstration  here  in  the  city,  but  it  fizzled  out ; 
we  were  too  few  of  us  then.  But  this  year  we  will — 
you'll  see !  " 

He  choked  from  agitation,  having  a  foretaste  of  the 
future  event.  Then  waving  his  spoon  in  the  air,  he 
continued : 

"  So  Vlasova — the  mother,  as  I  was  telling  you — she, 
too,  got  into  the  party  after  that.  They  say  she's  a  won- 
der of  an  old  woman." 

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MOTHER 

The  mother  smiled  broadly.  It  was  pleasant  for  her 
to  hear  the  boy's  enthusiastic  praise — pleasant,  yet  embar- 
rassing. She  even  had  to  restrain  herself  from  telling 
him  that  she  was  Vlasova,  and  she  thought  sadly,  in  deri- 
sion of  herself :   "  Oh,  you  old  fool !  " 

"  Eat  more !  Get  well  sooner  for  the  sake  of  the 
cause !  "  She  burst  out  all  of  a  sudden,  in  agitation, 
bending  toward  him :  "  It  awaits  powerful  young  hands, 
clean  hearts,  honest  minds.  It  lives  by  these  forces! 
With  them  it  holds  aloof  everything  evil,  everything 
mean !  " 

The  door  opened,  admitting  a  cold,  damp,  autumn 
draught.  Sofya  entered,  bold,  a  smile  on  her  face,  red- 
dened by  the  cold. 

"  Upon  my  word,  the  spies  are  as  attentive  to  me  as 
a  bridegroom  to  a  rich  bride!  I  must  leave  this  place. 
Well,  how  are  you,  Vanya?  All  right?  How's  Pavel, 
Nilovna  ?    What !  Is  Sasha  here  ?  " 

Lighting  a  cigarette,  she  showered  questions  without 
waiting  for  answers,  caressing  the  mother  and  the  youth 
with  merry  glances  of  her  gray  eyes.  The  mother  looked 
at  her  and  smiled  inwardly.  "  What  good  people  I'm 
among !  "  she  thought.  She  bent  over  Ivan  again  and 
gave  him  back  his  kindness  twofold : 

"  Get  well !  Now  I  must  give  you  wine."  She  rose 
and  walked  into  the  dining  room,  where  Sofya  was  say- 
ing to  Sasha: 

"  She  has  three  hundred  copies  prepared  already. 
She'll  kill  herself  working  so  hard.  There's  heroism  for 
you !  Unseen,  unnoticed,  it  finds  its  reward  and  its  praise 
in  itself.  Do  you  know,  Sasha,  it's  the  greatest  happiness 
to  live  among  such  people,  to  be  their  comrade,  to  work 
with  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  girl  softly. 
352 


MOTHMR 

In  the  evening  at  tea  Sofya  said  to  the  mother : 

"  Nilovna,  you  have  to  go  to  the  village  again." 

"Well,  what  of  it?    When?" 

"  It  would  be  good  if  you  could  go  to-morrow.  Can 
you?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Ride  there,"  advised  Nikolay.  "  Hire  post  horses, 
and  please  take  a  different  route  from  before  —  across 
the  district  of  Nikolsk."  Nikolay's  somber  expression 
was  alarming. 

"  The  way  by  Nikolsk  is  long,  and  it's  expensive  if 
you  hire  horses." 

"  You  see,  I'm  against  this  expedition  in  general.  It's 
already  begun  to  be  unquiet  there  —  some  arrests  have 
been  made,  a  teacher  was  taken.  Rybin  escaped,  that's 
certain.  But  we  must  be  more  careful.  We  ought  to 
have  waited  a  little  while  still." 

"  That  can't  be  avoided,"  said  Nilovna. 

Sofya,  tapping  her  fingers  on  the  table,  remarked : 

"  It's  important  for  us  to  keep  spreading  literature  all 
the  time.     You're  not  afraid  to  go,  are  you,  Nilovna  ?  " 

The  mother  felt  offended.  "  When  have  I  ever  been 
afraid?  I  was  without  fear  even  the  first  time.  And 
now  all  of  a  sudden — "  She  drooped  her  head.  Each 
time  she  was  asked  whether  she  was  afraid,  whether  the 
thing  was  convenient  for  her,  whether  she  could  do  this 
or  that — she  detected  an  appeal  to  her  which  placed  her 
apart  from  the  comrades,  who  seemed  to  behave  differ- 
ently toward  her  than  toward  one  another.  Moreover, 
when  fuller  days  came,  although  at  first  disquieted  by  the 
commotion*  by  the  rapidity  of  events,  she  soon  grew 
accustomed  to  the  bustle  and  responded,  as  it  were,  to 
the  jolts  she  received  from  her  impressions.  She  became 
filled  with  a  zealous  greed  for  work.    This  was  her  condi- 

353 


MOTHER 

tion  to-day;  and,  therefore,  Sofya's  question  was  all  the 
more  displeasing  to  her. 

"  There's  no  use  for  you  to  ask  me  whether  or  not 
I'm  afraid  and  various  other  things,"  she  sighed.  "  I've 
nothing  to  be  afraid  of.  Those  people  are  afraid  who 
have  something.  What  have  I  ?  Only  a  son.  I  used  to 
be  afraid  for  him,  and  I  used  to  fear  torture  for  his  sake. 
And  if  there  is  no  torture — well,  then?  " 

"  Are  you  offended  ?  "  exclaimed  Sofya. 

"  No.  Only  you  don't  ask  each  other  whether  you're 
afraid." 

Nikolay  removed  his  glasses,  adjusted  them  to  his 
nose  again,  and  looked  fixedly  at  his  sister's  face.  The 
embarrassed  silence  that  followed  disturbed  the  mother. 
She  rose  guiltily  from  her  seat,  wishing  to  say  something 
to  them,  but  Sofya  stroked  her  hand,  and  said  quietly : 

"  Forgive  me !    I  won't  do  it  any  more." 

The  mother  haa  to  laugh,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
three  were  speaking  busily  and  amicably  about  the  trip 
to  the  village. 


CHAPTER    X 

HE  next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  the 
mother  was  seated  in  the  post  chaise,  jolt- 
ing along  the  road  washed  by  the  autumn 
rain.  A  damp  wind  blew  on  her  face,  the 
mud  splashed,  and  the  coachman  on  the 
box,  half-turned  toward  her,  complained  in  a  meditative 
snuffle : 

*'  I  say  to  him — my  brother,  that  is — let's  go  halves. 
We  began  to  divide " —  he  suddenly  whipped  the  left 
horse  and  shouted  angrily :  "  Well,  well,  play,  your 
mother  is  a  witch." 

The  stout  autumn  crows  strode  with  a  businesslike  air 
through  the  bare  fields.  The  wind  whistled  coldly,  and 
the  birds  caught  its  buffets  on  their  backs.  It  blew  their 
feathers  apart,  and  even  lifted  them  off  their  feet,  and, 
yielding  to  its  force,  they  lazily  flapped  their  wings  and 
flew  to  a  new  spot. 

*'  But  he  cheated  me ;  I  see  I  have  nothing " 

The  mother  listened  to  the  coachman's  words  as  in 
a  dream.  A  dumb  thought  grew  in  her  heart.  Memory 
brought  before  her  a  long  series  of  events  through  which 
she  had  lived  in  the  last  years.  On  an  examination  of 
each  event,  she  found  she  had  actively  participated  in  it. 
Formerly,  life  used  to  happen  somewhere  in  the  distance, 
remote  from  where  she  was,  uncertain  for  whom  and  for 
what.    Now,  many  things  were  accomplished  before  her 

355 


MOTHER 

eyes,  with  her  help.  The  result  in  her  was  a  confused 
feeling,  compounded  of  distrust  of  herself,  complacency, 
perplexity,  and  sadness. 

The  scenery  about  her  seemed  to  be  slowly  moving. 
Gray  clouds  floated  in  the  sky,  chasing  each  other  heav- 
ily ;  wet  trees  flashed  along  the  sides  of  the  road,  swing- 
ing their  bare  tops ;  little  hills  appeared  and  swam  asun- 
der. The  whole  turbid  day  seemed  to  be  hastening  to 
meet  the  sun — to  be  seeking  it. 

The  drawling  voice  of  the  coachman,  the  sound  of  the 
bells,  the  humid  rustle  and  whistle  of  the  wind,  blended 
in  a  trembling,  tortuous  stream,  which  flowed  on  with  a 
monotonous  force,  and  roused  the  wind. 

**  The  rich  man  feels  crowded,  even  in  Paradise. 
That's  the  way  it  is.  Once  he  begins  to  oppress,  the  gov- 
ernment authorities  are  his  friends,"  quoth  the  coachman, 
swaying  on  his  seat. 

While  unhitching  the  horses  at  the  station  he  said  to 
the  mother  in  a  hopeless  voice : 

*'  If  you  gave  me  only  enough  for  a  drink " 

She  gave  him  a  coin,  and  tossing  it  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand,  he  informed  her  in  the  same  hopeless  tone : 

"  I'll  take  a  drink  for  three  coppers,  and  buy  myself 
bread  for  two." 

In  the  afternoon  the  mother,  shaken  up  by  the  ride 
and  chilled,  reached  the  large  village  of  Nikolsk.  She 
went  to  a  tavern  and  asked  for  tea.  After  placing  her 
heavy  vaHse  under  the  bench,  she  sat  at  a  window  and 
looked  out  into  an  open  square,  covered  with  yellow,  tram- 
pled grass,  and  into  the  town  hall,  a  long,  old  building 
with  an  overhanging  roof.  Swine  were  straggling  about 
in  the  square,  and  on  the  steps  of  the  town  hall  sat  a  bald, 
thin-bearded  peasant  smoking  a  pipe.  The  clouds  swam 
overhead  in  dark  masses,  and  piled  up,  one  absorbing  the 


MOTHER 

other.  It  was  dark,  gloomy,  and  tedious.  Life  seemed  to 
be  in  hiding. 

Suddenly  the  village  sergeant  galloped  up  to  the 
square,  stopped  his  sorrel  at  the  steps  of  the  town  hall, 
and  waving  his  whip  in  the  air,  shouted  to  the  peasant. 
The  shouts  rattled  against  the  window  panes,  but  the 
words  were  indistinguishable.  The  peasant  rose  and 
stretched  his  hand,  pointing  to  something.  The  sergeant 
jumped  to  the  ground,  reeled,  threw  the  reins  to  the 
peasant,  and  seizing  the  rails  with  his  hands,  lifted  him- 
self heavily  up  the  steps,  and  disappeared  behind  the 
doors  of  the  town  hall. 

Quiet  reigned  again.  Only  the  horse  struck  the  soft 
earth  with  the  iron  of  his  shoes. 

A  girl  came  into  the  room.  A  short  yellow  braid 
lay  on  her  neck,  her  face  was  round,  and  her  eyes  kind. 
She  bit  her  lips  with  the  effort  of  carrying  a  ragged-edged 
tray,  with  dishes,  in  her  outstretched  hands.  She  bowed, 
nodding  her  head. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  good  girl  ?  "  said  the  mother 
kindly. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  " 

Putting  the  plates  and  the  china  dishes  on  the  table, 
she  announced  with  animation: 

"  They've  just  caught  a  thief.  They're  bringing  him 
here." 

"  Indeed?    What  sort  of  a  thief?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  only  heard  that  they  caught  him. 
The  watchman  of  the  town  hall  ran  off  for  the  police 
commissioner,  and  shouted :  '  They've  caught  him. 
They're  bringing  him  here.'  " 

The  mother  looked  through  the  window.  Peasants 
357 


MOTHER 

gathered  in  the  square;  some  walked  slowly,  some 
quickly,  while  buttoning  their  overcoats.  They  stopped 
at  the  steps  of  the  town  hall,  and  all  looked  to  the 
left.  It  was  strangely  quiet.  The  girl  also  went  to 
the  window  to  see  the  street,  and  then  silently  ran  from 
the  room,  banging  the  door  after  her.  The  mother  trem- 
bled, pushed  her  valise  farther  under  the  bench,  and 
throwing  her  shawl  over  her  head,  hurried  to  the  door. 
She  had  to  restrain  a  sudden,  incomprehensible  desire  to 
run. 

When  she  walked  up  the  steps  of  the  town  hall  a 
sharp  cold  struck  her  face  and  breast.  She  lost  breath, 
and  her  legs  stiffened.  There,  in  the  middle  of  the  square, 
walked  Rybin !  His  hands  were  bound  behind  his  back, 
and  on  each  side  of  him  a  policeman,  rhythmically  strik- 
ing the  ground  with  his  club.  At  the  steps  stood  a  crowd 
waiting  in  silence. 

Unconscious  of  the  bearing  of  the  thing,  the  mother's 
gaze  was  riveted  on  Rybin.  He  said  something;  she 
heard  his  voice,  but  the  words  did  not  reach  the  dark  emp- 
tiness of  her  heart. 

She  recovered  her  senses,  and  took  a  deep  breath.  A 
peasant  with  a  broad  light  beard  was  standing  at  the 
steps  looking  fixedly  into  her  face  with  his  blue  eyes. 
Coughing  and  rubbing  her  throat  with  her  hands,  weak 
with  fear,  she  asked  him  with  an  effort: 

''What's  the  matter?" 

"  Well,  look."  The  peasant  turned  away.  Another 
peasant  came  up  to  her  side. 

"  Oh,  thief !  How  horrible  you  look !  "  shouted  a 
woman's  voice. 

The  policemen  stepped  in  front  of  the  crowd,  which 
increased  in  size.     Rybin's  voice  sounded  thick: 

"  Peasants,  I'm  not  a  thief;  I  don't  steal;  I  don't  set 

358 


MOTHMR 

things  on  fire.  I  only  fight  against  falsehood.  That's 
why  they  seized  me.  Have  you  heard  of  the  true  books 
in  which  the  truth  is  written  about  our  peasant  life? 
Well,  it's  because  of  these  writings  that  I  suffer.  It's  I 
who  distributed  them  among  the  people." 

The  crowd  surrounded  Rybin  more  closely.  His 
voice  steadied  the  mother. 

"  Did  you  hear  ?  "  said  a  peasant  in  a  low  voice,  nudg- 
ing a  blue-eyed  neighbor,  who  did  not  answer  but  raised 
his  head  and  again  looked  into  the  mother's  face.  The 
other  peasant  also  looked  at  her.  He  was  younger  than 
he  of  the  blue  eyes,  with  a  dark,  sparse  beard,  and  a  lean 
freckled  face.  Then  both  of  them  turned  away  to  the  side 
of  the  steps. 

"  They're  afraid,"  the  mother  involuntarily  noted. 
Her  attention  grew  keener.  From  the  elevation  of  the 
stoop  she  clearly  saw  the  dark  face  of  Rybin,  distin- 
guished the  hot  gleam  of  his  eyes.  She  wanted  that  he, 
too,  should  see  her,  and  raised  herself  on  tiptoe  and  craned 
her  neck. 

The  people  looked  at  him  sullenly,  distrustfully,  and 
were  silent.  Only  in  the  rear  of  the  crowd  subdued  con- 
versation was  heard. 

"  Peasants  !  "  said  Rybin  aloud,  in  a  peculiar  full  voice. 
"  Believe  these  papers !  I  shall  now,  perhaps,  get  death 
on  account  of  them.  The  authorities  beat  me,  they  tor- 
tured me,  they  wanted  to  find  out  from  where  I  got  them, 
and  they're  going  to  beat  me  more.  For  in  these  writ- 
ings the  truth  is  laid  down.  An  honest  world  and  the 
truth  ought  to  be  dearer  to  us  than  bread.  That's  what 
I  say." 

"  Why  is  he  doing  this  ?  "  softly  exclaimed  one  of 
the  peasants  near  the  steps.  He  of  the  blue  eyes  an- 
swered : 

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MOTHER 

"  Now  it's  all  the  same.  He  won't  escape  death,  any- 
how.   And  a  man  can't  die  twice." 

The  sergeant  suddenly  appeared  on  the  steps  of  the 
town  hall,  roaring  in  a  drunken  voice : 

"  What  is  this  crowd?    Who's  the  fellow  speaking?  " 

Suddenly  precipitating  himself  down  the  steps,  he 
seized  Rybin  by  the  hair,  and  pulled  his  head  backward 
and  forward.  "  Is  it  you  speaking,  you  damned  scoun- 
drel?    Is  it  you?" 

The  crowd,  giving  way,  still  maintained  silence.  The 
mother,  in  impotent  grief,  bowed  her  head;  one  of  the 
peasants  sighed.    Rybin  spoke  again: 

"  There !     Look,  good  people !  " 

"  Silence !  "  and  the  sergeant  struck  his  face. 

Rybin  reeled. 

"  They  bind  a  man's  hands  and  then  torment  him, 
and  do  with  him  whatever  they  please." 

"  Policemen,  take  him !  Disperse,  people !  "  The 
sergeant,  jumping  and  swinging  in  front  of  Rybin,  struck 
him  in  his  face,  breast,  and  stomach. 

"  Don't  beat  him !  "  some  one  shouted  dully. 

"  Why  do  you  beat  him  ? "  another  voice  upheld  the 
first. 

"  Lazy,  good-for-nothing  beast !  " 

"  Come !  "  said  the  blue-eyed  peasant,  motioning  with 
his  head ;  and  without  hastening,  the  two  walked  toward 
the  town  hall,  accompanied  by  a  kind  look  from  the 
mother.  She  sighed  with  relief.  The  sergeant  again 
ran  heavily  up  the  steps,  and  shaking  his  fists  in  men- 
ace, bawled  from  his  height  vehemently : 

"  Bring  him  here,  officers,  I  say !     I  say " 

"  Don't !  "  a  strong  voice  resounded  in  the  crowd, 
and  the  mother  knew  it  came  from  the  blue-eyed  peasant. 
*'  Boys !  don't  permit  it !     They'll  take  him  in  there  and 

360 


MOTHMR 

beat  him  to  death,  and  then  they'll  say  we  killed  him. 
Don't  permit  it  1  " 

"  Peasants !  "  the  powerful  voice  of  Rybin  roared, 
drowning  the  shouts  of  the  sergeant.  "  Don't  you  un- 
derstand your  life?  Don't  you  understand  how  they  rob 
3'ou — how  they  cheat  you — how  they  drink  your  blood? 
You  keep  everything  up ;  everything  rests  on  you ;  you 
are  all  the  power  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  everything  on 
earth — its  whole  power.  And  what  rights  have  you? 
You  have  the  right  to  starve — it's  your  only  right  1 " 

"  He's  speaking  the  truth,  I  tell  you !  " 

Some  men  shouted: 

"  Call  the  commissioner  of  police !  Where  is  the 
commissioner  of  police  ?  " 

"  The  sergeant  has  ridden  away  for  him !  " 

"  It's  not  our  business  to  call  the  authorities ! " 

The  noise  increased  as  the  crowd  grew  louder  and 
louder. 

"  Speak !    We  won't  let  them  beat  you !  " 

"  Officers,  untie  his  hands !  " 

"  No,  brothers ;  that's  not  necessary !  " 

"Untie  him!" 

"  Look  out  you  don't  do  something  you'll  be  sorry 
for!" 

"  I  am  sorry  for  my  hands !  "  Rybin  said  evenly  and 
resonantly,  making  himself  heard  above  all  the  other 
voices.  "  I'll  not  escape,  peasants.  I  cannot  hide  from 
my  truth ;  it  lives  inside  of  me !  " 

Several  men  walked  away  from  the  crowd,  formed 
different  circles,  and  with  earnest  faces  and  shaking  their 
heads  carried  on  conversations.  Some  smiled.  More 
and  more  people  came  running  up  —  excited,  bearing 
marks  of  having  dressed  quickly.  They  seethed  like 
black  foam  about  Rybin,  and  he  rocked  to  and  fro  in 

361 


MOTHBR 

their  midst.  Raising  his  hands  over  his  head  and  shaking 
them,  he  called  into  the  crowd,  which  responded  now  by 
loud  shouts,  now  by  silent,  greedy  attention,  to  the  unfa- 
miliar, daring  words : 

"  Thank  you,  good  people !  Thank  you !  I  stood 
up  for  you,  for  your  lives !  "  He  wiped  his  beard  and 
again  raised  his  blood-covered  hand.  "  There's  my 
blood !    It  flows  for  the  sake  of  truth !  " 

The  mother,  without  considering,  walked  down  the 
steps,  but  immediately  returned,  since  on  the  ground  she 
couldn't  see  Mikhail,  hidden  by  the  close-packed  crowd. 
Something  indistinctly  joyous  trembled  in  her  bosom  and 
warmed  it. 

"  Peasants !  Keep  your  eyes  open  for  those  writings  ; 
read  them.  Don't  believe  the  authorities  and  the  priests 
when  they  tell  you  those  people  who  carry  truth  to  us  are 
godless  rioters.  The  truth  travels  over  the  earth  se- 
cretly ;  it  seeks  a  nest  among  the  people.  To  the  author- 
ities it's  like  a  knife  in  the  fire.  They  cannot  accept  it. 
It  will  cut  them  and  burn  them.  Truth  is  your  good 
friend  and  a  sworn  enemy  of  the  authorities — that's  why 
it  hides  itself." 

"  That's  so ;  he's  speaking  the  gospel  1  "  shouted  the 
blue-eyed  peasant. 

"  Ah,  brother !    You  will  perish — and  soon,  too !  " 

"Who  betrayed  you?" 

"  The  priest !  "  said  one  of  the  police. 

Two  peasants  gave  vent  to  hard  oaths. 

"  Look  out,  boys ! "  a  somewhat  subdued  cry  was 
heard  in  warning. 

The  commissioner  of  police  walked  into  the  crowd — 
a  tall,  compact  man,  with  a  round,  red  face.  His  cap  was 
cocked  to  one  side ;  his  mustache  with  one  end  turned  up 
the  other  drooping  made  his  face  seem  crooked,  and  it 

362 


MOTHBR 

was  disfigured  by  a  dull^  dead  grin.  His  left  hand  held 
a  saber,  his  right  waved  broadly  in  the  air.  His  heavy, 
firm  tramp  was  audible.  The  crowd  gave  way  before 
him.  Something  sullen  and  crushed  appeared  in  their 
faces,  and  the  noise  died  away  as  if  it  had  sunk  into 
the  ground. 

''  What's  the  trouble  ? "  asked  the  police  commis- 
sioner, stopping  in  front  of  Rybin  and  measuring  him 
with  his  eyes.  "  Why  are  his  hands  not  bound  ?  Officers, 
why  ?  Bind  them !  "  His  voice  was  high  and  resonant, 
but  colorless. 

*'  They  were  tied,  but  the  people  unbound  them,"  an- 
swered one  of  the  policemen. 

"  The  people !  What  people  ?  "  The  police  commis- 
sioner looked  at  the  crowd  standing  in  a  half-circle  before 
him.  In  the  same  monotonous,  blank  voice,  neither  ele- 
vating nor  lowering  it,  he  continued :  "  Who  are  the 
people  ?  " 

With  a  back  stroke  he  thrust  the  handle  of  his  saber 
against  the  breast  of  the  blue-eyed  peasant. 

"  Are  you  the  people,  Chumakov  ?  Well,  who  else  ? 
You,  Mishin  ?  "  and  he  pulled  somebody's  beard  with  his 
right  hand. 

*'  Disperse,  you  curs !  " 

Neither  his  voice  nor  face  displayed  the  least  agitation 
or  threat.  He  spoke  mechanically,  with  a  dead  calm,  and 
with  even  movements  of  his  strong,  long  hands,  pushed 
the  people  back.  The  semicircle  before  hira  widened. 
Heads  drooped,  faces  were  turned  aside. 

"  Well,''  he  addressed  the  policeman,  "  what's  the 
matter  with  you  ?  Bind  him !  "  He  uttered  a  cynical 
oath  and  again  looked  at  Rybin,  and  said  nonchalantly: 
"  Your  hands  behind  your  back,  you !  " 

"  I  don't  want  my  hands  to  be  bound,"  said  Rybin. 
24  363 


MOTHER 

*'  I'm  not  going  to  run  away,  and  I'm  not  fighting.  Why 
should  my  hands  be  bound  ?  " 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  the  police  commissioner,  strid- 
ing up  to  him. 

"  It's  enough  that  you  torture  the  people,  you 
beasts !  "  continued  Rybin  in  an  elevated  voice.  *'  The 
red  day  will  soon  come  for  you,  too.  You'll  be  paid  back 
for  everything." 

The  police  commissioner  stood  before  him,  his  mus- 
tached  upper  lip  twitching.  Then  he  drew  back  a  step, 
and  with  a  whistling  voice  sang  out  in  surprise : 

"Um!  you  damned  scoundrel!  Wha-at?  What  do 
you  mean  by  your  words  ?    People,  you  say  ?    A-a " 

Suddenly  he  dealt  Rybin  a  quick,  sharp  blow  in  the 
face. 

''  You  won't  kill  the  truth  with  your  fist !  "  shouted 
Rybin,  drawing  on  him.  "  And  you  have  no  right  to 
beat  me,  you  dog !  " 

"I  won't  dare,  I  suppose?"  the  police  commissioner 
drawled. 

Again  he  waved  his  hand,  aiming  at  Rybin's  head ; 
Rybin  ducked;  the  blow  missed,  and  the  police  commis- 
sioner almost  toppled  over.  Some  one  in  the  crowd 
gave  a  jeering  snort,  and  the  angry  shout  of  Mikhail  was 
heard : 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  beat  me,  I  say,  you  infernal  devil ! 
I'm  no  weaker  than  you!     Look  out!  " 

The  police  commissioner  looked  around.  The  people 
shut  down  on  him  in  a  narrower  circle,  advancing  sul- 
lenly. 

"  Nikita !  "  the  police  commissioner  called  out,  look- 
ing around.  "  Nikita,  hey !  "  A  squat  peasant  in  a  short 
fur  overcoat  emerged  from  the  crowd.  He  looked  on 
the  ground,  with  his  large  disheveled  head  drooping. 

364 


MOTHER 

"  Nikita,"  the  police  commissioner  said  deliberately, 
twirling  his  mustache,  "  give  him  a  box  on  the  ear — a 
good  one !  " 

The  peasant  stepped  forward,  stopped  in  front  of 
Rybin  and  raised  his  hand.  Staring  him  straight  in  the 
face,  Rybin  stammered  out  heavily : 

''  Now  look,  people,  how  the  beasts  choke  you  with 
your  own  hands !  Look !  Look !  Think !  Why  does 
he  want  to  beat  me — why  ?  I  ask." 

The  peasant  raised  his  hand  and  lazily  struck  Mi- 
khail's face. 

"Ah,  Nikita!  don't  forget  God!"  subdued  shouts 
came  from  the  crowd. 

"  Strike,  I  say !  "  shouted  the  police  commissioner, 
pushing  the  peasant  on  the  back  of  his  neck. 

The  peasant  stepped  aside,  and  inclining  his  head, 
said  sullenly: 

"  I  won't  do  it  again." 

"  What  ?  "  The  face  of  the  police  commissioner  quiv- 
ered. He  stamped  his  feet,  and,  cursing,  suddenly  flung 
himself  upon  Rybin.  The  blow  whizzed  through  the 
air ;  Rybin  staggered  and  waved  his  arms ;  with  the 
second  blow  the  police  commissioner  felled  him  to  the 
ground,  and,  jumping  around  with  a  growl,  he  began  to 
kick  him  on  his  breast,  his  side,  and  his  head. 

The  crowd  set  up  a  hostile  hum,  rocked,  and  advanced 
upon  the  police  commissioner.  He  noticed  it  and  jumped 
away,  snatching  his  saber  from  its  scabbard. 

"  So  that's  what  you're  up  to !  You're  rioting,  are 
you  ?  " 

His  voice  trembled  and  broke;  it  had  grown  husky. 
And  he  lost  his  composure  along  with  his  voice.  He  drew 
his  shoulders  up  about  his  head,  bent  over,  and  turning 
his  blank,  bright  eyes  on  all  sides,  he  fell  back,  carefully 

365 


MOTHER 

feeling  the  ground  behind  him  with  his  feet.    As  he  with- 
drew he  shouted  hoarsely  in  great  excitement: 

"  All  right ;  take  him !  I'm  leaving !  But  now,  do  you 
know,  you  cursed  dogs,  that  he  is  a  political  criminal; 
that  he  is  going  against  our  Czar ;  that  he  stirs  up  riots — 
do  you  know  it? — against  the  Emperor,  the  Czar?  And 
you  protect  him ;  you,  too,  are  rebels.    Aha — a " 

Without  budging,  without  moving  her  eyes,  the 
strength  of  reason  gone  from  her,  the  mother  stood  as 
if  in  a  heavy  sleep,  overwhelmed  by  fear  and  pity.  The 
outraged,  sullen,  wrathful  shouts  of  the  people  buzzed 
like  bees  in  her  head. 

*'  If  he  has  done  something  wrong,  lead  him  to  court." 

"  And  don't  beat  him !  " 

"  Forgive  him,  your  Honor !  " 

"  Now,  really,  what  does  it  mean?  Without  any  law 
whatever !  " 

"Why,  is  it  possible?  If  they  begin  to  beat  every- 
body that  way,  what'll  happen  then  ?  " 

'*  The  devils !    Our  torturers !  " 

The  people  fell  into  two  groups — the  one  surrounding 
the  police  commissioner  shouted  and  exhorted  him ;  the 
other,  less  numerous,  remained  about  the  beaten  man, 
humming  and  sullen.  Several  men  lifted  him  from  the 
ground.    The  policemen  again  wanted  to  bind  his  hands. 

"  Wait  a  little  while,  you  devils !  "  the  people  shouted. 

Rybin  wiped  the  blood  from  his  face  and  beard  and 
looked  about  in  silence.  His  gaze  glided  by  the  face  of 
the  mother.  She  started,  stretched  herself  out  to  him, 
and  instinctively  waved  her  hand.  He  turned  away ;  but 
in  a  few  minutes  his  eyes  again  rested  on  her  face.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  he  straightened  himself  and  raised  his 
head,  that  his  blood-covered  cheeks  quivered. 

"  Did  he  recognize  me?    I  wonder  if  he  did?  " 
366 


MOTHER 

She  nodded  her  head  to  him  and  started  with  a  sor- 
rowful, painful  joy.  But  the  next  moment  she  saw  that 
the  blue-eyed  peasant  was  standing  near  him  and  also 
looking  at  her.  His  gaze  awakened  her  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  risk  she  was  running. 

"  What  am  I  doing?    They'll  take  me,  too." 

The  peasant  said  something  to  Rybin,  who  shook  his 
head. 

"  Never  mind !  "  he  exclaimed,  his  voice  tremulous, 
but  clear  and  bold.  "  I'm  not  alone  in  the  world.  They'll 
not  capture  all  the  truth.  In  the  place  where  I  was  the 
memory  of  me  will  remain.  That's  it!  Even  though 
they  destroy  the  nest,  aren't  there  more  friends  and  com- 
rades there  ?  " 

"  He's  saying  this  for  me,"  the  mother  decided 
quickly. 

"  The  people  will  build  other  nests  for  the  truth ; 
and  a  day  will  come  when  the  eagles  will  fly  from  them 
into  freedom.    The  people  will  emancipate  themselves." 

A  woman  brought  a  pail  of  water  and,  wailing  and 
groaning,  began  to  wash  Rybin's  face.  Her  thin,  piteous 
voice  mixed  with  Mikhail's  words  and  hindered  the 
mother  from  understanding  them.  A  throng  of  peasants 
came  up  with  the  police  commissioner  in  front  of  them. 
Some  one  shouted  aloud: 

"  Come ;  I'm  going  to  make  an  arrest !  Who's  next?  " 

Then  the  voice  of  the  police  commissioner  was  heard. 
It  had  changed — mortification  now  evident  in  its  altered 
tone. 

"  I  may  strike  you,  but  you  mayn't  strike  me.  Don't 
you  dare,  you  dunce ! " 

"  Is  that  so  ?    And  who  are  you,  pray  ?    A  god  ?  " 

A  confused  but  subdued  clamor  drowned  Rybin's 
voice. 

367 


MOTHER 

"  Don't  argue,  uncle.  You're  up  against  the  au- 
thorities. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  your  Honor.  The  man's  out  of  his 
wits." 

"  Keep  still,  you  funny  fellow !  " 

"  Here,  they'll  soon  take  you  to  the  city !  " 

"  There's  more  law  there !  " 

The  shouts  of  the  crowd  sounded  pacificatory,  en- 
treating; they  blended  into  a  thick,  indistinct  babel,  in 
which  there  was  something  hopeless  and  pitiful.  The 
policemen  led  Rybin  up  the  steps  of  the  town  hall  and 
disappeared  with  him  behind  the  doors.  People  began  to 
depart  in  a  hurry.  The  mother  saw  the  blue-eyed  peasant 
go  across  the  square  and  look  at  her  sidewise.  Her  legs 
trembled  under  her  knees.  A  dismal  feeling  of  impotence 
and  loneliness  gnawed  at  her  heart  sickeningly. 

"  I  mustn't  go  away,"  she  thought.  "  I  mustn't !  "  and 
holding  on  to  the  rails  firmly,  she  waited. 

The  police  commissioner  walked  up  the  steps  of  the 
town  hall  and  said  in  a  rebuking  voice,  which  had  as- 
sumed its  former  blankness  and  soullessness : 

"  You're  fools,  you  damned  scoundrels !  You  don't 
understand  a  thing,  and  poke  your  noses  into  an  affair 
like  this — a  government  affair.  Cattle!  You  ought  to 
thank  me,  fall  on  your  knees  before  me  for  my  goodness ! 
If  I  were  to  say  so,  you  would  all  be  put  to  hard  labor." 

About  a  score  of  peasants  stood  with  bared  heads  and 
listened  in  silence.  It  began  to  grow  dusk ;  the  clouds 
lowered.  The  blue-eyed  peasant  walked  up  to  the  steps, 
and  said  with  a  sigh : 

"  That's  the  kind  of  business  we  have  here !  " 

"  Ye-es,"  the  mother  rejoined  quietly. 

He  looked  at  her  with  an  open  gaze. 

**  What's  your  occupation  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  pause. 

368 


MOTHER 

"  I  buy  lace  from  the  women,  and  linen,  too." 

The  peasant  slowly  stroked  his  beard.  Then  looking 
up  at  the  town  hall  he  said  gloomily  and  softly : 

"  You  won't  find  anything  of  that  kind  here." 

The  mother  looked  down  on  him,  and  waited  for  a 
more  suitable  moment  to  depart  for  the  tavern.  The  peas- 
ant's face  was  thoughtful  and  handsome  and  his  eyes 
were  sad.  Broad-shouldered  and  tall,  he  was  dressed  in 
a  patched-up  coat,  in  a  clean  chintz  shirt,  and  reddish 
homespun  trousers.    His  feet  were  stockingless. 

The  mother  for  some  reason  drew  a  sigh  of  relief,  and 
suddenly  obeying  an  impulse  from  within,  yielding  to 
an  instinct  that  got  the  better  of  her  reason,  she  surprised 
herself  by  asking  him : 

"  Can  I  stay  in  your  house  overnight?  " 

At  the  question  everything  in  her  muscles,  her  bones, 
tightened  stiffly.  She  straightened  herself,  holding  her 
breath,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  peasant.  Pricking- 
thoughts  quickly  flashed  through  her  mind :  "  I'll  ruin 
everybody — Nikolay  Ivanovich,  Sonyushka — I'll  not  see 
Pasha  for  a  long  time — they'll  kill  him " 

Looking  on  the  ground,  the  peasant  answered  delib- 
erately, folding  his  coat  over  his  breast : 

"  Stay  overnight  ?  Yes,  you  can.  Why  not  ?  Only 
my  home  is  very  poor !  " 

"  Never  mind ;  I'm  not  used  to  luxury,"  the  mother 
answered  uncalculatingly. 

"  You  can  stay  with  me  overnight,"  the  peasant  re- 
peated, measuring  her  with  a  searching  glance. 

It  had  already  grown  dark,  and  in  the  twilight  his 
eyes  shone  cold,  his  face  seemed  very  pale.  The  mother 
looked  around,  and  as  if  dropping  under  distress,  she 
said  in  an  undertone : 

"  Then  I'll  go  at  once,  and  you'll  take  my  valise." 
369 


MOTHER 

"  All  right ! "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  again 
folded  his  coat  and  said  softly : 

**  There  goes  the  wagon !  " 

In  a  few  moments,  after  the  crowd  had  begun  to  dis- 
perse, Rybin  appeared  again  on  the  steps  of  the  town 
hall.  His  hands  were  bound;  his  head  and  face  were 
wrapped  up  in  a  gray  cloth,  and  he  was  pushed  into  a 
waiting  wagon. 

"  Farewell,  good  people !  "  his  voice  rang  out  in  the 
cold  evening  twilight.  "  Search  for  the  truth.  Guard  it ! 
Believe  the  man  who  will  bring  you  the  clean  word; 
cherish  him.  Don't  spare  yourselves  in  the  cause  of 
truth!" 

''  Silence,  you  dog ! "  shouted  the  voice  of  the  police 
commissioner.  "  Policeman,  start  the  horses  up,  you 
fool!" 

"  What  have  you  to  be  sorry  for  ?  What  sort  of  life 
have  you  ?  " 

The  wagon  started.  Sitting  in  it  with  a  policeman  on 
either  side,  Rybin  shouted  dully: 

"  For  the  sake  of  what  are  you  perishing — in  hunger  ? 
Strive  for  freedom  —  it'll  give  you  bread  and -^  truth. 
Farewell,  good  people !  " 

The  hasty  rumble  of  the  wheels,  the  tramp  of  the 
horses,  the  shout  of  the  police  officer,  enveloped  his 
speech  and  muffled  it. 

"  It's  done !  "  said  the  peasant,  shaking  his  head. 
"  You  wait  at  the  station  a  little  while,  and  I'll  come 
soon." 


CHAPTER   XI 

*HE  mother  went  to  the  room  in  the  tavern, 
sat  herself  at  the  table  in  front  of  the  sam- 
ovar, took  a  piece  of  bread  in  her  hand, 
looked  at  it,  and  slowly  put  it  back  on  the 
plate.  She  was  not  hungry;  the  feeling  in 
her  breast  rose  again  and  flushed  her  with  nausea.  She 
grew  faint  and  dizzy;  the  blood  was  sucked  from  her 
heart.  Before  her  stood  the  face  of  the  blue-eyed  peas- 
ant. It  was  a  face  that  expressed  nothing  and  failed  to 
arouse  confidence.  For  some  reason  the  mother  did  not 
want  to  tell  herself  in  so  many  words  that  he  would 
betray  her.  The  suspicion  lay  deep  in  her  breast — a  dead 
weight,  dull  and  motionless. 

"  He    scented   me ! "    she   thought   idly    and    faintly. 
"  He    noticed  —  he    guessed."      Further    than   this    her 
thoughts  would  not  go,  and  she  sank  into  an  oppressive 
despondency.    The  nausea,  the  spiritless  stillness  beyond 
the  window  that  replaced  the  noise,  disclosed  something 
huge,  but  subdued,  something  frightening,  which  sharp- 
ened her  feeling  of  solitude,  her  consciousness  of  power- 
lessness,  and  filled  her  heart  with  ashen  gloom. 
The  young  girl  came  in  and  stopped  at  the  door. 
"  Shall  I  bring  you  an  omelette  ?  " 
"  No,  thank  you,  I  don't  want  it ;  the  shouts  fright- 
ened me." 

The  girl  walked  up  to  the  table  and  began  to  speak 
excitedly  in  hasty,  terror-stricken  tones : 

371 


MOTHER 

"  How  the  police  commissioner  beat  him !  I  stood 
near  and  could  see.  All  his  teeth  were  broken.  He  spit 
out  and  his  teeth  fell  on  the  ground.  The  blood  came 
thick — thick  and  dark.  You  couldn't  see  his  eyes  at  all ; 
they  were  swollen  up.  He's  a  tar  man.  The  sergeant 
is  in  there  in  our  place  drunk,  but  he  keeps  on  calling 
for  whisky.  They  say  there  was  a  whole  band  of  them, 
and  that  this  bearded  man  was  their  elder,  the  hetman. 
Three  were  captured  and  one  escaped.  They  seized  a 
teacher,  too ;  he  was  also  with  them.  They  don't  believe 
in  God,  and  they  try  to  persuade  others  to  rob  all  the 
churches.  That's  the  kind  of  people  they  are;  and 
our  peasants,  some  of  them  pitied  him — that  fellow 
— and  others  say  they  should  have  settled  him  for 
good  and  all.  We  have  such  mean  peasants  here!  Oh, 
my !  oh,  my !  " 

The  mother,  by  giving  the  girl's  disconnected,  rapid 
talk  her  fixed  attention,  tried  to  stifle  her  uneasiness,  to 
dissipate  her  dismal  forebodings.  As  for  the  girl,  she 
must  have  rejoiced  in  an  auditor.  Her  words  fairly 
choked  her  and  she  babbled  on  in  lowered  voice  with 
greater  and  greater  animation : 

"  Papa  says  it  all  comes  from  the  poor  crop.  This  Is 
the  second  year  we've  had  a  bad  harvest.  The  people 
are  exhausted.  That's  the  reason  we  have  such  peasants 
springing  up  now.  What  a  shame !  You  ought  to  hear 
them  shout  and  fight  at  the  village  assemblies.  The 
other  day  when  Vosynkov  was  sold  out  for  arrears  he 
dealt  the  starosta  (bailiff)  a  cracking  blow  on  the  face. 
*  There  are  my  arrears  for  you ! '  he  says." 

Heavy  steps  were  heard  at  the  door.  The  mother 
rose  to  her  feet  with  difficulty.  The  blue-eyed  peasant 
came  in,  and  taking  off  his  hat  asked: 

"  Where  is  the  baggage  ?  " 
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MOTHER 

He  lifted  the  valise  lightly,  shook  it,  and  said : 

"  Why,  it's  empty !  Marya,  show  the  guest  the  way 
to  my  house,"  and  he  walked  off  without  looking  around. 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  here  overnight  ?  "  asked  the 
girl. 

"  Yes.    I'm  after  lace ;  I  buy  lace." 

"  They  don't  make  lace  here.  They  make  lace  in 
Tinkov  and  in  Daryina,  but  not  among  us." 

"  I'm  going  there  to-morrow ;  I'm  tired." 

On  paying  for  the  tea  she  made  the  girl  very  happy 
by  handing  her  three  kopecks.  On  the  road  the  girl's 
feet  splashed  quickly  in  the  mud. 

"  If  you  want  to,  I'll  run  over  to  Daryina,  and  I'll 
tell  the  women  to  bring  their  lace  here.  That'll  save 
your  going  there.     It's  about  eight  miles." 

"  That's  not  necessary,  my  dear." 

The  cold  air  refreshed  the  mother  as  she  stepped 
along  beside  the  girl.  A  resolution  slowly  formulated 
itself  in  her  mind — confused,  but  fraught  with  a  prom- 
ise. She  wished  to  hasten  its  growth,  and  asked  herself 
persistently :  "  How  shall  I  behave  ?  Suppose  I  come 
straight  out  with  the  truth  ?  " 

It  was  dark,  damp,  and  cold.  The  windows  of  the 
peasants'  huts  shone  dimly  with  a  motionless  reddish 
light;  the  cattle  lowed  drowsily  in  the  stillness,  and 
short  halloos  reverberated  through  the  fields.  The  vil- 
lage was  clothed  in  darkness  and  an  oppressive  melan- 
choly. 

"  Here !  "  said  the  girl,  "  you've  chosen  a  poor  lodging 
for  yourself.  This  peasant  is  very  poor."  She  opened 
the  door  and  shouted  briskly  into  the  hut :  "  Aunt  Tat- 
yana,  a  lodger  has  come !  "  She  ran  away,  her  "  Good- 
by !  "  flying  back  from  the  darkness. 

The  mother  stopped  at  the  threshold  and  peered  about 
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MOTHER 

with  her  palm  above  her  eyes.  The  hut  was  very  small, 
but  its  cleanness  and  neatness  caught  the  eye  at  once. 
From  behind  the  stove  a  young  woman  bowed  silently 
and  disappeared.  On  a  table  in  a  corner  toward  the 
front  of  the  room  burned  a  lamp.  The  master  of  the  hut 
sat  at  the  table,  tapping  his  fingers  on  its  edge.  He  fixed 
his  glance  on  the  mother's  eyes. 

"  Come  in !  "  he  said,  after  a  deliberate  pause. 

"  Tatyana,  go  call  Pyotr.     Quick  !  " 

The  woman  hastened  away  without  looking  at  her 
guest.  The  mother  seated  herself  on  the  bench  oppo- 
site the  peasant  and  looked  around — her  valise  was  not 
in  sight  An  oppressive  stillness  filled  the  hut,  broken 
only  by  the  scarcely  audible  sputtering  of  the  lamplight. 
The  face  of  the  peasant,  preoccupied  and  gloomy,  wav- 
ered in  vague  outline  before  the  eyes  of  the  mother,  and 
for  some  reason  caused  her  dismal  annoyance. 

*'  Well,  why  doesn't  he  say  something?    Quick!  " 

"Where's  my  valise?"  Her  loud,  stern  question 
coming  suddenly  was  a  surprise  to  herself.  The  peasant 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  thoughtfully  gave  the  in- 
definite answer : 

''  It's  safe."  He  lowered  his  voice  and  continued 
gloomily :  ''  Just  now,  in  front  of  the  girl,  I  said  on  pur- 
pose that  it  was  empty.  No,  it's  not  empty.  It's  very 
heavily  loaded." 

''Well,  what  of  it?" 

The  peasant  rose,  approached  her,  bent  over  her,  and 
whispered :    "  Do  you  know  that  man  ?  " 

The  mother  started,  but  answered  firmly : 

"  I  do." 

Her  laconic  reply,  as  it  were,  kindled  a  light  within 
her  which  rendered  everything  outside  clear.  She  sighed 
in  relief.    Shifting  her  position  on  the  bench,  she  settled 

374 


MOTHER 

herself  more  firmly  on  it,  while  the  peasant  laughed 
broadly. 

"  I  guessed  it — when  you  made  the  sign — and  he,  too. 
I  asked  him,  whispering  in  his  ear,  whether  he  knows  the 
woman  standing  on  the  steps." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  ?  He  says  '  there  are  a  great  many  of  us.'  Yes 
— *  there  are  a  great  many  of  us,'  he  says." 

The  peasant  looked  into  the  eyes  of  his  guest  question- 
ingly,  and,  smiling  again,  he  continued : 

"  He's  a  man  of  great  force,  he  is  brave,  he  speaks 
straight  out.  They  beat  him,  and  he  keeps  on  his  own 
way." 

The  peasant's  uncertain,  weak  voice,  his  unfinished, 
but  clear  face,  his  open  eyes,  inspired  the  mother  with 
more  and  more  confidence.  Instead  of  alarm  and  de- 
spondency, a  sharp,  shooting  pity  for  Rybin  filled  her 
bosom.  Overwhelmed  by  her  feelings,  unable  to  restrain 
herself,  she  suddenly  burst  out  in  bitter  malice: 

"  Robbers,  bigots !  "  and  she  broke  into  sobs. 

The  peasant  walked  away  from  her,  sullenly  nodding 
his  head. 

"  The  authorities  have  hired  a  whole  lot  of  assistants 
to  do  their  dirty  work  for  them.  Yes,  yes."  He  turned 
abruptly  toward  the  mother  again  and  said  softly: 
*'  Here's  what  I  guessed — that  you  have  papers  in  the 
valise.     Is  that  true  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  mother  simply,  wiping  away 
her  tears.    "  I  was  bringing  them  to  him." 

He  lowered  his  brows,  gathered  his  beard  into  his 
hand,  and  looking  on  the  floor  was  silent  for  a  time. 

*'  The  papers  reached  us,  too ;  some  books,  also.  We 
need  them  all.  They  are  so  true.  I  can  do  very  little 
reading  myself,  but  I  have  a  friend — he  can.     My  wife 

375 


MOTHER 

also  reads  to  me."  The  peasant  pondered  for  a  moment. 
*'  Now,  then,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  them — with 
the  vaHse?  " 

The  mother  looked  at  him. 

"  I'll  leave  it  to  you.'' 

He  was  not  surprised,  did  not  protest,  but  only  said 
curtly,  "  To  us,"  and  nodded  his  head  in  assent.  He  let 
go  of  his  beard,  but  continued  to  comb  it  with  his  fingers 
as  he  sat  down. 

With  inexorable,  stubborn  persistency  the  mother's 
memory  held  up  before  her  eyes  the  scene  of  Rybin's  tor- 
ture. His  image  extinguished  all  thoughts  in  her  mind. 
The  pain  and  injury  she  felt  for  the  man  obscured  every 
other  sensation.  Forgotten  was  the  valise  with  the  books 
and  newspapers.  She  had  feelings  only  for  Rybin.  Tears 
flowed  constantly ;  her  face  was  gloomy ;  but  her  voice 
did  not  tremble  when  she  said  to  her  host: 

"  They  rob  a  man,  they  choke  him,  they  trample  him 
in  the  mud — the  accursed !  And  when  he  says,  '  What 
are  you  doing,  you  godless  men  ? '  they  beat  and  torture 
him." 

"  Power,"  returned  the  peasant.  "  They  have  great 
power." 

"  From  where  do  they  get  it  ?  "  exclaimed  the  mother, 
thoroughly  aroused.  *'  From  us,  from  the  people — they 
get  everything  from  us." 

'*  Ye-es,"  drawled  the  peasant.  "  It's  a  wheel."  He 
bent  his  head  toward  the  door,  listening  attentively. 
*'  They're  coming,"  he  said  softly. 

"Who?" 

*'  Our  people,  I  suppose." 

His  wife  entered.  A  freckled  peasant,  stooping, 
strode  into  the  hut  after  her.  He  threw  his  cap  into  a 
corner,  and  quickly  went  up  to  their  host. 


MOTHER 

''Well?" 

The  host  nodded  in  confirmation. 

"  Stepan,"  said  the  wife,  standing  at  the  oven,  "  may- 
be our  guest  wants  to  eat  something." 

"  No,  thank  you,  my  dear." 

The  freckled  peasant  moved  toward  the  mother  and 
said  quietly,  in  a  broken  voice: 

"  Now,  then,  permit  me  to  introduce  myself  to  you. 
My  name  is  Pyotr  Yegorov  Ryabinin,  nicknamed  Shilo 
— the  Awl.  I  understand  something  about  your  affairs. 
I  can  read  and  write.  I'm  no  fool,  so  to  speak."  He 
grasped  the  hand  the  mother  extended  to  him,  and  wring- 
ing it,  turned  to  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  There,  Stepan,  see,  Varvara  Nikolayevna  is  a  good 
lady,  true.  But  in  regard  to  all  this,  she  says  it  is  non- 
sense, nothing  but  dreams.  Boys  and  different  students, 
she  says,  muddle  the  people's  mind  with  absurdities. 
However,  you  saw  just  now  a  sober,  steady  man,  as  he 
ought  to  be,  a  peasant,  arrested.  Now,  here  is  she,  an 
elderly  woman,  and  as  to  be  seen,  not  of  blue  blood. 
Don't  be  offended — what's  your  station  in  Hfe?  " 

He  spoke  quickly  and  distinctly,  without  taking  breath. 
His  little  beard  shook  nervously,  and  his  dark  eyes,  which 
he  screwed  up,  rapidly  scanned  the  mother's  face  and  fig- 
ure. Ragged,  crumpled,  his  hair  disheveled,  he  seemed 
just  to  have  come  from  a  fight,  in  which  he  had  van- 
quished his  opponent,  and  still  to  be  flushed  with  the  joy 
of  victory.  He  pleased  the  mother  with  his  sprightliness 
and  his  simple  talk,  which  at  once  went  straight  to  the 
point.  She  gave  him  a  kind  look  as  she  answered  his 
question.  He  once  more  shook  her  hand  vigorously,  and 
laughed  softly. 

"  You  see,  Stepan,  it's  a  clean  business,  an  excellent 
business.    I  told  you  so.    This  is  the  way  it  is :   the  peo- 

377 


MOTHER 

pie,  so  to  speak,  are  beginning  to  take  things  into  their 
own  hands.  And  as  to  the  lady — she  won't  tell  you  the 
truth ;  it's  harmful  to  her.  I  respect  her,  I  must  say ; 
she's  a  good  person,  and  wishes  us  well — well,  a  little 
bit,  and  provided  it  won't  harm  her  any.  But  the  peo- 
ple want  to  go  straight,  and  they  fear  no  loss  and 
no  harm — you  see? — all  life  is  harmful  to  them;  they 
have  no  place  to  turn  to ;  they  have  nothing  all  around 
except  *  Stop  I '  which  is  shouted  at  them  from  all 
sides." 

"  I  see,"  said  Stepan,  nodding  and  immediately  add- 
ing:   "She's  uneasy  about  her  baggage." 

Pyotr  gave  the  mother  a  shrewd  wink,  and  again 
reassured  her: 

"  Don't  be  uneasy ;  it's  all  right.  Everything  will  be 
all  right,  mother.  Your  valise  is  in  my  house.  Just 
now  when  he  told  me  about  you — that  you  also  partici- 
pate in  this  work  and  that  you  know  that  man — I  said  to 
him :  '  Take  care,  Stepan !  In  such  a  serious  business 
you  must  keep  your  mouth  shut.'  Well,  and  you,  too, 
mother,  seem  to  have  scented  us  when  we  stood  near 
you.  The  faces  of  honest  people  can  be  told  at  once. 
Not  many  of  them  walk  the  streets,  to  speak  frankly. 
Your  valise  is  in  my  house."  He  sat  down  alongside  of 
her  and  looked  entreatingly  into  her  eyes.  "If  you 
wish  to  empty  it  we'll  help  you,  with  pleasure.  We  need 
books." 

"  She  wants  to  give  us  everything,"  remarked  Stepan. 

"  First  rate,  mother !  We'll  find  a  place  for  all  of  it." 
He  jumped  to  his  feet,  burst  into  a  laugh,  and  quickly 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room  said  contentedly :  "  The 
matter  is  perfectly  simple :  in  one  place  it  snaps,  and  in 
another  it  is  tied  up.  Very  well!  And  the  newspaper, 
mother,  is  a  good  one^  and  does  its  work — it  peels  the 

378 


MOTHER 

people's  eyes  open ;  it's  unpleasant  to  the  masters.  I  do 
carpentry  work  for  a  lady  about  five  miles  from  here — 
a  good  woman,  I  must  admit.  She  gives  me  various 
books,  sometimes  very  simple  books.  I  read  them  over 
— I  might  as  well  fall  asleep.  In  general  we're  thankful 
to  her.  But  I  showed  her  one  book  and  a  number  of 
a  newspaper ;  she  was  somewhat  offended.  '  Drop  it, 
Pyotr ! '  she  said.  '  Yes,  this,'  she  says,  *  is  the  work  of 
senseless  youngsters ;  from  such  a  business  your  trou- 
bles can  only  increase;  prison  and  Siberia  for  this,'  she 
says." 

He  grew  abruptly  silent,  reflected  for  a  moment,  and 
asked :  *'  Tell  me,  mother,  this  man — is  he  a  relative  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  A  stranger." 

Pyotr  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  noiselessly, 
very  well  satisfied  with  something.  To  the  mother,  how- 
ever, it  seemed  the  very  next  instant  that,  in  reference  to 
Rybin,  the  word  "  stranger  "  was  not  in  place ;  it  jarred 
upon  her. 

"  I'm  not  a  relative  of  his ;  but  I've  known  him  for 
a  long  time,  and  I  look  up  to  him  as  to  an  elder  brother/* 

She  was  pained  and  displeased  not  to  find  the  word 
she  wanted,  and  she  could  not  suppress  a  quiet  groan. 
A  sad  stillness  pervaded  the  hut.  Pyotr  leaned  his  head 
upon  one  shoulder ;  his  little  beard,  narrow  and  sharp, 
stuck  out  comically  on  one  side,  and  gave  his  shadow 
swinging  on  the  wall  the  appearance  of  a  man  sticking 
out  his  tongue  teasingly.  Stepan  sat  with  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  boards.  His  wife 
stood  at  the  oven  without  stirring;  the  mother  felt  her 
look  riveted  upon  herself  and  often  glanced  at  the 
woman's  face — oval,  swarthy,  with  a  straight  nose,  and 
a  chin  cut  off  short ;  her  dark  and  thick  eyebrows  joined 
25  379 


MOTHER 

sternly,  her  eyelids  drooped,  and  from  under  them  her 
greenish  eyes  shone  sharply  and  intently. 

"  A  friend,  that  is  to  say,"  said  Pyotr  quietly.  "  He 
has  character,  indeed  he  has ;  he  esteems  himself  highly, 
as  he  ought  to;  he  has  put  a  high  price  on  himself,  as 
he  ought  to.    There's  a  man,  Tatyana !    You  say " 

"  Is  he  married  ? "  Tatyana  interposed,  and  com- 
pressed the  thin  lips  of  her  small  mouth. 

"  He's  a  widower,"  answered  the  mother  sadly. 

"  That's  why  he's  so  brave,"  remarked  Tatyana.  Her 
utterance  was  low  and  difficult.  "  A  married  man  like 
him  wouldn't  go — he'd  be  afraid." 

"  And  I  ?  I'm  married  and  everything,  and  yet — " 
exclaimed  Pyotr. 

"  Enough !  "  she  said  without  looking  at  him  and 
twisting  her  lips.  "  Well,  what  are  you  ?  You  only 
talk  a  whole  lot,  and  on  rare  occasions  you  read  a  book. 
It  doesn't  do  people  much  good  for  you  and  Stepan  to 
whisper  to  each  other  on  the  corners." 

"  Why,  sister,  many  people  hear  me,"  quietly  retorted 
the  peasant,  offended.  **  I  act  as  a  sort  of  yeast  here.  It 
isn't  fair  in  you  to  speak  that  way." 

Stepan  looked  at  his  wife  silently  and  again  drooped 
his  head. 

"  And  why  should  a  peasant  marry?  "  asked  Tatyana. 
"  He  needs  a  worker,  they  say.     What  work?  " 

"  You  haven't  enough  ?  You  want  more  ?  "  Stepan 
interjected  dully. 

"  But  what  sense  is  there  in  the  work  we  do  ?  We  go 
half-hungry  from  day  to  day  anyhow.  Children  are 
born ;  there's  no  time  to  look  after  them  on  account  of 
the  work  that  doesn't  give  us  bread."  She  walked  up  to 
the  mother,  sat  down  next  to  her,  and  spoke  on  stub- 
bornly, no  plaint  nor  mourning  in  her  voice.    "  I  had  two 

380 


MOTHER 

children;  one,  when  he  was  two  years  old,  was  boiled 
to  death  in  hot  water;  the  other  was  born  dead — from 
this  thrice-accursed  work.  Such  a  happy  life!  I  say 
a  peasant  has  no  business  to  marry.  He  only  binds 
his  hands.  If  he  were  free  he  would  work  up  to  a 
system  of  life  needed  by  everybody.  He  would  come 
out  directly  and  openly  for  the  truth.  Am  I  right, 
mother?" 

"  You  are.  You're  right,  my  dear.  Otherwise  we 
can't  conquer  life." 

"  Have  you  a  husband  ?  " 

*'  He  died.    I  have  a  son." 

"  And  where  is  he  ?    Does  he  live  with  you  ?  " 

*'  He's  in  prison."  The  mother  suddenly  felt  a  calm 
pride  in  these  words,  usually  painful  to  her.  "  This  is 
the  second  time  —  all  because  he  came  to  understand 
God's  truth  and  sowed  it  openly  without  sparing  himself. 
He's  a  young  man,  handsome,  intelligent ;  he  planned  a 
newspaper,  and  gave  Mikhail  Ivanovich  a  start  on  his 
way,  although  he's  only  half  of  Mikhail's  age.  Now 
they're  going  to  try  my  son  for  all  this,  and  sentence 
him ;  and  he'll  escape  from  Siberia  and  continue  with 
his  work." 

Her  pride  waxed  as  she  spoke.  It  created  the  image 
of  a  hero,  and  demanded  expression  in  words.  The 
mother  needed  an  offset — something  fine  and  bright — to 
balance  the  gloomy  incident  she  had  witnessed  that  day, 
with  its  senseless  horror  and  shameless  cruelty.  In- 
stinctively yielding  to  this  demand  of  a  healthy  soul,  she 
reached  out  for  everything  she  had  seen  that  was  pure 
and  shining  and  heaped  it  into  one  dazzling,  cleans- 
ing fire. 

"  Many  such  people  have  already  been  born,  more  and 
more  are  being  born,  and  they  will  all  stand  up  for  the 

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MOTHER 

freedom  of  the  people,  for  the  truth,  to  the  very  end  of 
their  Hves." 

She  forgot  precaution,  and  although  she  did  not  men- 
tion names,  she  told  everything  known  to  her  of  the 
secret  work  for  the  emancipation  of  the  people  from  the 
chains  of  greed.  In  depicting  the  personalities  she  put 
all  her  force  into  her  words,  all  the  abundance  of  love 
awakened  in  her  so  late  by  her  rousing  experiences.  And 
she  herself  became  warmly  enamored  of  the  images  ris- 
ing up  in  her  memory,  illumined  and  beautified  by  her 
feeling. 

"  The  common  cause  advances  throughout  the  world 
in  all  the  cities.  There's  no  measuring  the  power  of  the 
good  people.  It  keeps  growing  and  growing,  and  it 
will  grow  until  the  hour  of  our  victory,  until  the  resur- 
rection of  truth." 

Her  voice  flowed  on  evenly,  the  words  came  to  her 
readily,  and  she  quickly  strung  them,  like  bright,  vari- 
colored beads,  on  strong  threads  of  her  desire  to  cleanse 
her  heart  of  the  blood  and  filth  of  that  day.  She  saw  that 
the  three  people  were  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot  where  her 
speech  found  them,  and  that  they  looked  at  her  without 
stirring.  She  heard  the  intermittent  breathing  of  the  wo- 
man sitting  by  her  side,  and  all  this  magnified  the  power 
of  her  faith  in  what  she  said,  and  in  \\'hat  she  promised 
these  people. 

"  All  those  who  have  a  hard  life,  whom  want  and  in- 
justice crush — it's  the  rich  and  the  servitors  of  the  rich 
who  have  overpowered  them.  The  whole  people  ought 
to  go  out  to  meet  those  who  perish  in  the  dungeons 
for  them,  and  endure  mortal  torture.  Without  gain  to 
themselves  they  show  where  the  road  to  happiness  for 
all  people  lies.  They  frankly  admit  it  is  a  hard  road,  and 
they  force  no  one  to  follow  them.    But  once  you  take  your 

382 


MOTHER 

position  by  their  side  you  will  never  leave  them.  You 
will  see  it  is  the  true,  the  right  road.  With  such  persons 
the  people  may  travel.  Such  persons  will  not  be  recon- 
ciled to  small  achievements ;  they  will  not  stop  until  they 
will  vanquish  all  deceit,  all  evil  and  greed.  They  will  not 
fold  their  hands  until  the  people  are  welded  into  one  soul, 
until  the  people  will  say  in  one  voice :  '  I  am  the  ruler, 
and  I  myself  will  make  the  laws  equal  for  all.'  " 

She  ceased  from  exhaustion,  and  looked  about.  Her 
words  would  not  be  wasted  here,  she  felt  assured.  The 
silence  lasted  for  a  minute,  while  the  peasants  regarded 
her  as  if  expecting  more.  Pyotr  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  hut,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  his  eyes 
screwed  up,  a  smile  quivering  on  his  freckled  face.  Stepan 
was  leaning  one  hand  on  the  table ;  with  his  neck  and 
entire  body  forward,  he  seemed  still  to  be  listening. 
A  shadow  on  his  face  gave  it  more  finish.  His  wife,  sit- 
ting beside  the  mother,  bent  over,  her  elbows  on  her  knees, 
and  studied  her  feet. 

"  That's  how  it  is,"  whispered  Pyotr,  and  carefully  sat 
on  the  bench,  shaking  his  head. 

Stepan  slowly  straightened  himself,  looked  at  his  wife, 
and  threw  his  hands  in  the  air,  as  if  grasping  for  some- 
thing. 

"  If  a  man  takes  up  this  work,"  he  began  thought- 
fully in  a  moderated  voice,  "  then  his  entire  soul  is 
needed." 

Pyotr  timidly  assented : 

"  Yes,  he  mustn't  look  back." 

"  The  work  has  spread  very  widely,"  continued  Ste- 
pan. 

"  Over  the  whole  earth,"  added  Pyotr. 

They  both  spoke  like  men  walking  in  darkness,  grop- 
ing  for  the   way   with  their   feet.     The  mother  leaned 

383 


MOTHER 

against  the  wall,  and  throwing  back  her  head  listened  to 
their  careful  utterances.  Tatyana  arose,  looked  around, 
and  sat  down  again.  Her  green  eyes  gleamed  dryly  as 
she  looked  into  the  peasants'  faces  with  dissatisfaction 
and  contempt. 

''  It  seems  you've  been  through  a  lot  of  misery,"  she 
said,  suddenly  turning  to  the  mother. 

''  I  have." 

**  You  speak  well.  You  draw — you  draw  the  heart 
after  your  talk.  It  makes  me  think,  it  makes  me  think, 
*  God !  If  I  could  only  take  a  peep  at  such  people  and  at 
life  through  a  chink!'  How  does  one  live?  What  life 
has  one?  The  life  of  sheep.  Here  am  I ;  I  can  read  and 
write;  I  read  books,  I  think  a  whole  lot.  Sometimes  I 
don't  even  sleep  the  entire  night  because  I  think.  And 
what  sense  is  there  in  it?  If  I  don't  think,  my  existence 
is  a  purposeless  existence ;  and  if  I  do,  it  is  also  purpose- 
less. And  everything  seems  purposeless.  There  are 
the  peasants,  who  work  and  tremble  over  a  piece  of  bread 
for  their  homes,  and  they  have  nothing.  It  hurts  them, 
enrages  them ;  they  drink,  fight,  and  work  again — work, 
work,  work.     But  what  comes  of  it?     Nothing." 

She  spoke  with  scorn  in  her  eyes  and  in  her  voice, 
which  was  low  and  even,  but  at  times  broke  off  like  a  taut 
thread  overstrained.  The  peasants  were  silent,  the  wind 
glided  by  the  window  panes,  buzzed  through  the  straw  of 
the  roofs,  and  at  times  whined  softly  down  the  chimney. 
A  dog  barked,  and  occasional  drops  of  rain  pattered  on 
the  window.  Suddenly  the  light  flared  in  the  lamp, 
dimmed,  but  in  a  second  sprang  up  again  even  and  bright. 

'*  I  listened  to  your  talk,  and  I  see  what  people  live 
for  now.  It's  so  strange — I  hear  you,  and  I  think,  *  Why, 
I  know  all  this.'  And  yet,  until  you  said  it,  I  hadn't  heard 
such  things,  and  I  had  no  such  thoughts.     Yes." 

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MOTHER 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  take  something  to  eat,  and  put 
out  the  lamp,"  said  Stepan,  somberly  and  slowly.  **  Peo- 
ple will  notice  that  at  the  Chumakovs'  the  light  burned 
late.  It's  nothing  for  us,  but  it  might  turn  out  bad  for 
the  guest." 

Tatyana  arose  and  walked  to  the  oven. 

"  Ye-es,"  Pyotr  said  softly,  with  a  smile.  "  Now, 
friend,  keep  your  ears  pricked.  When  the  papers  appear 
among  the  people " 

"  I'm  not  speaking  of  myself.  If  they  arrest  me,  it's 
no  great  matter." 

The  wife  came  up  to  the  table  and  asked  Stepan  to 
make  room. 

He  arose  and  watched  her  spread  the  table  as  he 
stood  to  one  side. 

"  The  price  of  fellows  of  our  kind  is  a  nickel  a  bun- 
dle, a  hundred  in  a  bundle,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

The  mother  suddenly  pitied  him.  He  now  pleased  her 
more. 

"  You  don't  judge  right,  host,"  she  said.  "  A  man 
mustn't  agree  to  the  price  put  upon  him  by  people  from 
the  outside,  who  need  nothing  of  him  except  his  blood. 
You,  knowing  yourself  within,  must  put  your  own  esti- 
mate on  yourself — your  price,  not  for  your  enemies,  but 
for  your  friends." 

"What  friends  have  we?"  the  peasant  exclaimed 
softly.    "  Up  to  the  first  piece  of  bread." 

"  And  I  say  that  the  people  have  friends." 

"  Yes,  they  have,  but  not  here — that's  the  trouble," 
Stepan  deliberated. 

"  Well,  then  create  them  here." 

Stepan  reflected  a  while.    "  We'll  try." 

"  Sit  down  at  the  table,"  Tatyana  invited  her. 

At  supper,  Pyotr,  who  had  been  subdued  by  the  talk 

38s 


moth£:r 

of  the  mother  and  appeared  to  be  at  a  loss,  began  to 
speak  again  with  animation : 

"  Mother,  you  ought  to  get  out  of  here  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, to  escape  notice.  Go  to  the  next  station,  not  to  the 
city — hire  the  post  horses." 

"  Why?    I'm  going  to  see  her  off!  "  said  Stepan. 

''  You  mustn't.  In  case  anything  happens  and  they 
ask  you  whether  she  slept  in  your  house — '  She  did.' 
'  When  did  she  go  ? '  'I  saw  her  off.'  '  Aha !  You  did  ? 
Please  come  to  prison !  '  Do  you  understand  ?  And  no 
one  ought  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  into  prison ;  everybody's 
turn  will  come.  *  Even  the  Czar  will  die,'  as  the  saying 
goes.  But  the  other  way :  she  simply  spent  the  night  in 
your  house,  hired  horses,  and  went  away.  And  what  of 
it?  Somebody  passing  through  the  village  sleeps  with 
somebody  in  the  village.    There's  nothing  in  that." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  be  afraid,  Pyotr  ?  "  Tatyana 
scoffed. 

"  A  man  must  know  everything,  friend !  "  Pyotr  ex- 
claimed, striking  his  knee — ''know  how  to  fear,  know 
how  to  be  brave.  You  remember  how  a  policeman  lashed 
Vaganov  for  that  newspaper?  Now  you'll  not  persuade 
Vaganov  for  any  amount  of  money  to  take  a  book  in  his 
hand.  Yes  ;  you  believe  me,  mother,  I'm  a  sharp  fellow  for 
every  sort  of  a  trick — everybody  knows  it.  I'm  going  to 
scatter  these  books  and  papers  for  you  in  the  best  shape 
and  form,  as  much  as  you  please.  Of  course,  the  people 
here  are  not  educated ;  they've  been  intimidated.  How- 
ever, the  times  squeeze  a  man  and  wide  open  go  his  eyes, 
*  What's  the  matter  ? '  And  the  book  answers  him  in 
a  perfectly  simple  way :  *  That's  what's  the  matter — 
Think !  Unite !  Nothing  else  is  left  for  you  to  do ! ' 
There  are  examples  of  men  who  can't  read  or  write  and 
can  understand  more  than  the  educated  ones — especially 

386 


MOTHER 

if  the  educated  ones  have  their  stomachs  full.  I  go  about 
here  everywhere ;  I  see  much.  Well  ?  It's  possible  to 
live ;  but  you  want  brains  and  a  lot  of  cleverness  in  order 
not  to  sit  down  in  the  cesspool  at  once.  The  authorities, 
too,  smell  a  rat,  as  though  a  cold  wind  were  blowing  on 
them  from  the  peasants.  They  see  the  peasant  smiles 
very  little,  and  altogether  is  not  very  kindly  disposed  and 
wants  to  disaccustom  himself  to  the  authorities.  The 
other  day  in  Smolyakov,  a  village  not  far  from  here,  they 
came  to  extort  the  taxes ;  and  your  peasants  got  stubborn 
and  flew  into  a  passion.  The  police  commissioner  said 
straight  out :  '  Oh,  you  damned  scoundrels !  why,  this  is 
disobedience  to  the  Czar ! '  There  was  one  little  peasant 
there,  Spivakin,  and  says  he :  '  Off  with  you  to  the  evil 
mother  with  your  Czar !  What  kind  of  a  Czar  is  he  if 
he  pulls  the  last  shirt  off  your  body  ? '  That's  how  far  it 
went,  mother.  Of  course,  they  snatched  Spivakin  off  to 
prison.  But  the  word  remained,  and  even  the  little  boys 
know  it.  It  lives !  It  shouts !  And  perhaps  in  our  days 
the  word  is  worth  more  than  a  man.  People  are  stupe- 
fied and  deadened  by  their  absorption  in  breadwinning. 
Yes." 

Pyotr  did  not  eat,  but  kept  on  talking  in  a  quick 
whisper,  his  dark,  roguish  eyes  gleaming  merrily.  He 
lavishly  scattered  before  the  mother  innumerable  little 
observations  on  the  village  life  —  they  rolled  from  him 
like  copper  coins  from  a  full  purse. 

Stepan  several  times  reminded  him  :  "  Why  don't  you 
eat  ?  "  Pyotr  would  then  seize  a  piece  of  bread  and  a 
spoon  and  fall  to  talking  and  sputtering  again  like  a 
goldfinch.  Finally,  after  the  meal,  he  jumped  to  his  feet 
and  announced: 

"  Well,  it's  time  for  me  to  go  home.  Good-by, 
mother !  "  and  he  shook  her  hand  and  nodded  his  head, 

387 


MOTHER 

"  Maybe  we  shall  never  see  each  other  again.  I  must 
say  to  you  that  all  this  is  very  good — to  meet  you  and 
hear  your  speeches  —  very  good !  Is  there  anything  in 
your  valise  beside  the  printed  matter?  A  shawl?  Ex- 
cellent! A  shawl,  remember,  Stepan.  He'll  bring  you 
the  valise  at  once.  Come,  Stepan.  Good-by.  I  wish 
everything  good  to  you." 

After  he  had  gone  the  crawling  sound  of  the  roaches 
became  audible  in  the  hut,  the  blowing  of  the  wind  over 
the  roof  and  its  knocking  against  the  door  in  the  chim- 
ney. A  fine  rain  dripped  monotonously  on  the  window. 
Tatyana  prepared  a  bed  for  the  mother  on  the  bench 
with  clothing  brought  from  the  oven  and  the  storeroom, 

"  A  lively  man !  "  remarked  the  mother. 

The  hostess  looked  at  her  sidewise. 

"  A  light  fellow,"  she  answered.  "  He  rattles  on  and 
rattles  on;  you  can't  but  hear  the  rattling  at  a  great 
distance." 

"  And  how  is  your  husband?  "  asked  the  mother. 

"  So  so.  A  good  peasant ;  he  doesn't  drink ;  we  live 
peacefully.  So  so.  Only  he  has  a  weak  character."  She 
straightened  herself,  and  after  a  pause  asked: 

"Why,  what  is  it  that's  wanted  nowadays?  What's 
wanted  is  that  the  people  should  be  stirred  up  to  revolt. 
Of  course !  Everybody  thinks  about  it,  but  privately,  for 
himself.  And  what's  necessary  is  that  he  should  speak  out 
aloud.  Some  one  person  must  be  the  first  to  decide  to 
do  it."  She  sat  down  on  the  bench  and  suddenly  asked : 
"  Tell  me,  do  young  ladies  also  occupy  themselves  with 
this?  Do  they  go  about  with  the  workingmen  and  read? 
Aren't  they  squeamish  and  afraid?"  She  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  mother's  reply  and  fetched  a  deep  sigh; 
then  drooping  her  eyelids  and  inclining  her  head,  she 
said :   "  In  one  book  I  read  the  words  '  senseless  life.'    I 

388 


MOTHER 

understood  them  very  well  at  once.  I  know  such  a  life. 
Thoughts  there  are,  but  they're  not  connected,  and  they 
stray  like  stupid  sheep  without  a  shepherd.  They  stray 
and  stray,  with  no  one  to  bring  them  together.  There's 
no  understanding  in  people  of  what  must  be  done.  That's 
what  a  senseless  Hfe  is.  I'd  like  to  run  away  from  it 
without  even  looking  around — such  a  severe  pang  one 
suffers  when  one  understands  something !  '* 

The  mother  perceived  the  pang  in  the  dry  gleam,  of 
the  woman's  green  eyes,  in  her  wizened  face,  in  her 
voice.    She  wanted  to  pet  and  soothe  her. 

"  You  understand,  my  dear,  what  to  do " 

Tatyana  interrupted  her  softly: 

"  A  person  must  be  able —  The  bed's  ready  for  you. 
Lie  down  and  sleep." 

She  went  over  to  the  oven  and  remained  standing 
there  erect,  in  silence,  sternly  centered  in  herself.  The 
mother  lay  down  without  undressing.  She  began  to  feel 
the  weariness  in  her  bones  and  groaned  softly.  Tatyana 
walked  up  to  the  table,  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  when 
darkness  descended  on  the  hut  she  resumed  speech  in 
her  low,  even  voice,  which  seemed  to  erase  something 
from  the  flat  face  of  the  oppressive  darkness. 

"  You  do  not  pray  ?  I,  too,  think  there  is  no  God, 
there  are  no  miracles.  All  these  things  were  contrived  to 
frighten  us,  to  make  us  stupid." 

The  mother  turned  about  on  the  bench  uneasily;  the 
dense  darkness  looked  straight  at  her  from  the  window, 
and  the  scarcely  audible  crawling  of  the  roaches  persist- 
ently disturbed  the  quiet.  She  began  to  speak  almost  in 
a  whisper  and  fearfully: 

"  In  regard  to  God,  I  don't  know ;  but  I  do  believe  in 
Christ,  in  the  Little  Father.  I  believe  in  his  words, 
*  Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.'    Yes,  I  believe  in  them." 

389 


MOTHER 

And  suddenly  she  asked  in  perplexity :  "  But  if  there  is 
a  God,  why  did  He  withdraw  his  good  power  from  us? 
Why  did  He  allow  the  division  of  people  into  two  worlds? 
Why,  if  He  is  merciful,  does  He  permit  human  torture— 
the  mockery  of  one  man  by  another,  all  kinds  of  evil  and 
beastliness  ?  " 

Tatyana  was  silent.  In  the  darkness  the  mother  saw 
the  faint  outline  of  her  straight  figure — gray  on  the  black 
background.  She  stood  motionless.  The  mother  closed 
her  eyes  in  anguish.  Then  the  groaning,  cold  voice  sul- 
lenly broke  in  upon  the  stillness  again : 

"  The  death  of  my  children  I  will  never  forgive, 
neither  God  nor  man — I  will  never  forgive — never !  " 

Nilovna  uneasily  rose  from  her  bed ;  her  heart  under- 
stood the  mightiness  of  the  pain  that  evoked  such  words. 

"You  are  young;  you  will  still  have  children,"  she 
said  kindly. 

The  woman  did  not  answer  immediately.  Then  she 
whispered : 

"  No,  no.  I'm  spoiled.  The  doctor  says  Til  never 
be  able  to  have  a  child  again.'' 

A  mouse  ran  across  the  floor,  something  cracked — a 
flash  of  sound  flaring  up  in  the  noiselessness.  The  autumn 
rain  again  rustled  on  the  thatch  like  light  thin  fingers 
running  over  the  roof.  Large  drops  of  water  dismally 
fell  to  the  ground,  marking  the  slow  course  of  the  autumn 
night.  Hollow  steps  on  the  street,  then  on  the  porch, 
awoke  the  mother  from  a  heavy  slumber.  The  door 
opened  carefully. 

"  Tatyana !  "  came  the  low  call.  "  Are  you  in  bed 
already  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Is  she  asleep?  " 

"  It  seems  she  is." 

390 


MOTHER 

A  light  flared  up,  trembled,  and  sank  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

The  peasant  walked  over  to  the  mother's  bed,  adjusted 
the  sheepskin  over  her,  and  wrapped  up  her  feet.  The 
attention  touched  the  mother  in  its  simplicity.  She  closed 
her  eyes  again  and  smiled.  Stepan  undressed  in  silence, 
crept  up  to  the  loft,  and  all  became  quiet. 


CHAPTER   XII 

HE  mother  lay  motionless,  with  ears  strained 
in  the  drowsy  stillness,  and  before  her  in 
the  darkness  wavered  Rybin's  face  covered 
with  blood.  In  the  loft  a  dry  whisper  could 
be  heard. 

"  You  see  what  sort  of  people  go  into  this  work  ?  Even 
elderly  people  who  have  drunk  the  cup  of  misery  to  the 
bottom,  who  have  worked,  and  for  whom  it  is  time  to 
rest.  And  there  they  are  I  But  you  are  young,  sensible ! 
Ah,  Stepan!" 

The  thick,  moist  voice  of  the  peasant  responded : 
"  Such  an   aflfair — you   mustn't  take   it   up   without 
thinking  over  it.    Just  wait  a  little  while !  " 

"  I've  heard  you  say  so  before."    The  sounds  dropped, 
tand  rose  again.    The  voice  of  Stepan  rang  out: 

*'  You  must  do  it  this  way — at  first  you  must  take  each 
peasant  aside  and  speak  to  him  by  himself — for  instance, 
to  Makov  Alesha,  a  lively  man — can  read  and  write — was 
wronged  by  the  police ;  Shorin  Sergey,  also  a  sensible 
peasant ;  Knyazev,  an  honest,  bold  man,  and  that'll  do  to 
begin  with.  Then  we'll  get  a  group  together,  we  look 
about  us — yes.  We  must  learn  how  to  find  her ;  and  we 
ourselves  must  take  a  look  at  the  people  about  whom 
she  spoke.  I'll  shoulder  my  ax  and  go  off  to  the  city 
myself,  making  out  I'm  going  there  to  earn  money  by 
splitting  wood.  You  must  proceed  carefully  in  this  mat- 
ter.   She's  right  when  she  says  that  the  price  a  man  has 

392 


MOTHER 

is  according  to  his  own  estimate  of  himself — and  this  is 
an  affair  in  which  you  must  set  a  high  value  on  yourself 
when  once  you  take  it  up.  There's  that  peasant !  See !  You 
can  put  him  even  before  God,  not  to  speak  of  before  a 
police  commissioner.  He  won't  yield.  He  stands  for 
his  own  firmly — up  to  his  knees  in  it.  And  Nikita,  why 
his  honor  was  suddenly  pricked — a  marvel?  No.  If  the 
people  will  set  out  in  a  friendly  way  to  do  something 
together,  they'll  draw  everybody  after  them." 

"  Friendly !  They  beat  a  man  in  front  of  your  eyes, 
and  you  stand  with  your  mouths  wide  open." 

"  You  just  wait  a  little  while.  He  ought  to  thank 
God  we  didn't  beat  him  ourselves,  that  man.  Yes,  in- 
deed. Sometimes  the  authorities  compel  you  to  beat,  and 
you  do  beat.  Maybe  you  weep  inside  yourself  with  pity, 
but  still  you  beat.  People  don't  dare  to  decline  from 
beastliness — they'll  be  killed  themselves  for  it.  They 
command  you,  '  Be  what  I  want  you  to  be — a  wolf,  a 
pig ' — but  to  be  a  man  is  prohibited.  And  a  bold  man 
they'll  get  rid  of — send  to  the  next  world.  No.  You 
must  contrive  for  many  to  get  bold  at  once,  and  for  all 
to  arise  suddenly." 

He  whispered  for  a  long  time,  now  lowering  his  voice 
so  that  the  mother  scarcely  could  hear,  and  now  bursting 
forth  powerfully.  Then  the  woman  would  stop  him. 
''  S-sh,  you'll  wake  her." 

The  mother  fell  into  a  heavy  dreamless  sleep. 

Tatyana  awakened  her  in  the  early  twilight,  when  the 
dusk  still  peered  through  the  window  with  blank  eyes, 
and  when  brazen  sounds  of  the  church  bell  floated  and 
melted  over  the  village  in  the  gray,  cold  stillness. 

"  I  have  prepared  the  samovar.  Take  some  tea  or 
you'll  be  cold  if  you  go  out  immediately  after  getting  up." 

Stepan,  combing  his  tangled  beard,  asked  the  mother 
393 


MOTHER 

solicitously  how  to  find  her  in  the  city.  To-day  the  peas- 
ant's face  seemed  more  finished  to  her.  While  they  drank 
tea  he  remarked,  smiling: 

"  How  wonderfully  things  happen !  " 

"  What?  "  asked  Tatyana. 

"  Why,  this  acquaintance — so  simply." 

The  mother  said  thoughtfully,  but  confidently : 

"  In  this  afifair  there's  a  marvelous  simplicity  in 
everything." 

The  host  and  hostess  restrained  themselves  from 
demonstrativeness  in  parting  with  her ;  they  were  sparing 
of  words,  but  lavish  in  little  attentions  for  her  comfort. 

Sitting  in  the  post,  the  mother  reflected  that  this 
peasant  would  begin  to  work  carefully,  noiselessly,  like 
a  mole,  without  cease,  and  that  at  his  side  the  discontented 
voice  of  his  wife  would  always  sound,  and  the  dry  burn- 
ing gleam  in  her  green  eyes  would  never  die  out  of  her 
so  long  as  she  cherished  the  revengeful  wolfish  anguish 
of  a  mother  for  lost  children. 

The  mother  recalled  Rybin — his  blood,  his  face,  his 
burning  eyes,  his  words.  Her  heart  was  compressed 
again  with  a  bitter  feeling  of  impotence ;  and  along  the 
entire  road  to  the  city  the  powerful  figure  of  black- 
bearded  Mikhail  with  his  torn  shirt,  his  hands  bound  be- 
hind his  back,  his  disheveled  head,  clothed  in  wrath  and 
faith  in  his  truth,  stood  out  before  her  on  the  drab  back- 
ground of  the  gray  day.  And  as  she  regarded  the  figure, 
she  thought  of  the  numberless  villages  timidly  pressed  to 
the  ground ;  of  the  people,  faint-heartedly  and  secretly 
awaiting  the  coming  of  truth ;  and  of  the  thousands  of 
people  who  senselessly  and  silently  work  their  whole  life- 
time without  awaiting  the  coming  of  anything. 

Life  represented  itself  to  her  as  an  unplowed,  hilly 
field,  which  mutely  awaits  the  workers  and  promises  a 

394 


MOTHER 

harvest  to  free  and  honest  hands :  "  Fertilize  me  with 
seeds  of  reason  and  truth;  I  will  return  them  to  you  a 
hundredfold." 

When  from  afar  she  saw  the  roofs  and  spires  of  the 
city,  a  warm  joy  animated  and  eased  her  perturbed,  worn 
heart.  The  preoccupied  faces  of  those  people  flashed  up 
in  her  memory  who,  from  day  to  day,  without  cease,  in 
perfect  confidence  kindle  the  fire  of  thought  and  scatter 
the  sparks  over  the  whole  earth.  Her  soul  was  flooded 
by  the  serene  desire  to  give  these  people  her  entire  force, 
and — doubly  the  love  of  a  mother,  awakened  and  ani- 
mated by  their  thoughts. 

At  home  Nikolay  opened  the  door  for  the  mother. 
He  was  disheveled  and  held  a  book  in  his  hand. 

"  Already  ?  "  he  exclaimed  joyfully.  "  You've  re- 
turned very  quickly.    Well,  Vm  glad,  very  glad." 

His  eyes  blinked  kindly  and  hriskly  behind  his  glasses. 
He  quickly  helped  her  off  with  her  wraps,  and  said  with 
an  affectionate  smile  : 

"  And  here  in  my  place,  as  you  see,  there  was  a 
search  last  night.  And  I  wondered  what  the  reason  for 
it  could  possibly  be — whether  something  hadn't  happened 
to  you.  But  you  were  not  arrested.  If  they  had  arrested 
you  they  wouldn't  have  let  me  go  either." 

He  led  her  into  the  dining  room,  and  continued  with 
animation :  "  However,  they  suggested  that  I  should  be 
discharged  from  my  position.  That  doesn't  distress  me. 
I  was  sick,  anyway,  of  counting  the  number  of  horseless 
peasants,  and  ashamed  to  receive  money  for  it,  too;  for 
the  money  actually  comes  from  them.  It  would  have 
been  awkward  for  me  to  leave  the  position  of  my  own 
accord.  I  am  under  obligations  to  the  comrades  in  re- 
gard to  work.  And  now  the  matter  has  found  its  own 
solution.    I'm  satisfied !  " 

26  395 


MOTHER 

The  mother  sat  down  and  looked  around.  One  would 
have  supposed  that  some  powerful  man  in  a  stupid  fit  of 
insolence  had  knocked  the  walls  of  the  house  from  the 
outside  until  everything  inside  had  been  jolted  down. 
The  portraits  were  scattered  on  the  floor ;  the  w^all  paper 
was  torn  away  and  stuck  out  in  tufts ;  a  board  was 
pulled  out  of  the  flooring;  a  window  sill  was  ripped 
away ;  the  floor  by  the  oven  was  strewn  with  ashes.  The 
mother  shook  her  head  at  the  sight  of  this  familiar 
picture. 

"  They  wanted  to  show  that  they  don't  get  money  for 
nothing,"  remarked  Nikolay. 

On  the  table  stood  a  cold  samovar,  unwashed  dishes, 
sausages,  and  cheese  on  paper,  along  with  plates,  crumbs 
of  bread,  books,  and  coals  from  the  samovar.  The 
mother  smiled.  Nikolay  also  laughed  in  embarrassment, 
following  the  look  of  her  eyes. 

''  It  was  I  who  didn't  waste  time  in  completing  the 
picture  of  the  upset.  But  never  mind,  Nilovna,  never 
mind!  I  think  they're  going  to  come  again.  That's  the 
reason  I  didn't  pick  it  all  up.    Well,  how  was  your  trip  ?  " 

The  mother  started  at  the  question.  Rybin  arose  be- 
fore her ;  she  felt  guilty  at  not  having  told  of  him  imme- 
diately. Bending  over  a  chair,  she  moved  up  to  Nikolay 
and  began  her  narrative.  She  tried  to  preserve  her  calm 
in  order  not  to  omit  something  as  a  result  of  excitement. 

"  They  caught  him !  " 

A  quiver  shot  across  Nikolay's  face. 

"They  did?    How?" 

The  mother  stopped  his  questions  with  a  gesture  of 
her  hand,  and  continued  as  if  she  were  sitting  before  the 
very  face  of  justice  and  bringing  in  a  complaint  regard- 
ing the  torture  of  a  man.  Nikolay  threw  himself  back  in 
his  chair,  grew  pale,  and  listened,  biting  his  lips.     He 

396 


MOTHER 

slowly  removed  his  glasses,  put  them  on  the  table,  and 
ran  his  hand  over  his  face  as  if  wiping  away  invisible 
cobwebs.  The  mother  had  never  seen  him  wear  so  aus- 
tere an  expression. 

When  she  concluded  he  arose,  and  for  a  minute  paced 
the  floor  in  silence,  his  fists  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets. 
Conquering  his  agitation  .le  looked  almost  calmly  with  a 
hard  gleam  in  his  eyes  into  the  face  of  the  mother,  which 
was  covered  with  silent  tears. 

"  Nilovna,  we  mustn't  waste  time !  Let  us  try,  dear 
comrade,  to  take  ourselves  in  hand."  Then  he  remarked 
through  his  teeth : 

"  He  must  be  a  remarkable  fellow — such  nobility ! 
It'll  be  hard  for  him  in  prison.  Men  like  him  feel 
unhappy  there."  Stepping  in  front  of  the  mother  he 
exclaimed  in  a  ringing  voice :  "  Of  course,  all  the  com- 
missioners and  sergeants  are  nothings.  They  are  sticks 
in  the  hands  of  a  clever  villain,  a  trainer  of  animals. 
But  I  would  kill  an  animal  for  allowing  itself  to  be 
turned  into  a  brute ! "  He  restrained  his  excitement, 
which,  however,  made  itself  felt  to  the  mother's  per- 
ceptions. Again  he  strode  through  the  room,  and  spoke 
in  wrath :  "  See  what  horror !  A  gang  of  stupid  peo- 
ple, protesting  their  pernicious  power  over  the  people, 
beat,  stifle,  oppress  everybody.  Savagery  grows  apace; 
cruelty  becomes  the  law  of  life.  A  whole  nation  is  de- 
praved. Think  of  it!  One  part  beats  and  turns  brute; 
from  immunity  to  punishment,  sickens  itself  with  a  vo- 
luptuous greed  of  torture  —  that  disgusting  disease  of 
slaves  licensed  to  display  all  the  power  of  slavish  feelings 
and  cattle  habits.  Others  are  poisoned  with  the  desire 
for  vengeance.  Still  others,  beaten  down  to  stupidity, 
become  dumb  and  blind.  They  deprave  the  nation,  the 
whole  nation !  "    He  stopped,  leaning  his  elbows  against 

397 


MOTHER 

\  

the  doorpost.  He  clasped  his  head  in  both  hands,  and 
was  silent,  his  teeth  set. 

"  You  involuntarily  turn  a  beast  yourself  in  this 
beastly  life !  " 

Smiling-  sadly,  he  walked  up  to  her,  and  bending 
over  her  asked,  pressing  her  hand :  "  Where  is  your 
valise?" 

''  In  the  kitchen." 

"  A  spy  is  standing  at  our  gate.  We  won't  be  able 
to  get  such  a  big  mass  of  papers  out  of  the  way  un- 
noticed. There's  no  place  to  hide  them  in  and  I  think 
they'll  come  again  to-night.  I  don't  want  you  to  be 
arrested.  So,  however  sorry  we  may  be  for  the  lost 
labor,  let's  burn  the  papers." 

"What?" 

"  Everything  in  the  valise !  " 

She  finally  understood ;  and  though  sad,  her  pride  in 
her  success  brought  a  complacent  smile  to  her  face. 

*'  There's  nothing  in  it — no  leaflets."  With  gradu- 
ally increasing  animation  she  told  how  she  had  placed 
them  in  the  hands  of  sympathetic  peasants  after  Rybin's 
departure.  Nikolay  listened,  at  first  with  an  uneasy 
frown,  then  in  surprise,  and  finally  exclaimed,  interrupt- 
ing her  story: 

"  Say,  that's  capital !  Nilovna,  do  you  know — "  He 
stammered,  embarrassed,  and  pressing  her  hand,  ex- 
claimed quietly :  ''  You  touch  me  so  by  your  faith  in 
people,  by  your  faith  in  the  cause  of  their  emancipation ! 
You  have  such  a  good  soul !  I  simply  love  you  as  I 
didn't  love  my  own  mother !  '' 

Embracing  his  neck,  she  burst  into  happy  sobs,  and 
pressed  his  head  to  her  lips. 

**  Maybe,"  he  muttered,  agitated  and  embarrassed  by 
the  newness  of  his  feeling,  "  maybe  I'm  speaking  non- 

398 


MOTHER 

sense ;  but,  upon  my  honest  word,  you  are  a  beautiful 
person,  Nilovna — yes  !  " 

"  My  darling,  I  love  you,  too ;  and  I  love  you  all  with 
my  whole  soul,  every  drop  of  my  blood !  "  she  said,  chok- 
ing with  a  wave  of  hot  joy. 

The  two  voices  blended  into  one  throbbing  speech, 
subdued  and  pulsating  with  the  great  feeling  that  was 
seizing  the  people. 

"  Such  a  large,  soft  power  is  in  you ;  it  draws  the 
heart  toward  you  imperceptibly.  How  brightly  you 
describe  people !    How  well  you  see  them !  '* 

"  I  see  your  life ;  I  understand  it,  my  dear  1  " 

"  One  loves  you.  And  it's  such  a  marvelous  thing  to 
love  a  person — it's  so  good,  you  know !  " 

"  It  is  you,  you  who  raise  the  people  from  the  dead 
to  life  again;  you!"  the  mother  whispered  hotly,  strok- 
ing his  head.  "  My  dear,  I  think  I  see  there's  much 
work  for  you,  much  patience  needed.  Your  power  must 
not  be  wasted.  It's  so  necessary  for  life.  Listen  to  what 
else  happened:  there  was  a  woman  there,  the  wife  of  that 
man " 

Nikolay  sat  near  her,  his  happy  face  bent  aside  in 
embarrassment,  and  stroked  his  hair.  But  soon  he 
turned  around  again,  and  looking  at  the  mother,  listened 
greedily  to  her  simple  and  clear  story. 

"  A  miracle !  Every  possibility  of  your  getting  into 
prison  and  suddenly —  Yes,  it's  evident  that  the  peas- 
ants, too,  are  beginning  to  stir.  After  all,  it's  natural. 
We  ought  to  get  special  people  for  the  villages.  Peo- 
ple! We  haven't  enough  —  nowhere.  Life  demands 
hundreds  of  hands  !  " 

"  Now,  if  Pasha  could  be  free  —  and  Andriusha," 
said  the  mother  softly.  Nikolay  looked  at  her  and 
drooped  his  head. 

399 


MOTHER 

"  You  see,  Nilovna,  it'll  be  hard  for  you  to  hear ;  but 
I'll  say  it,  anyway — I  know  Pavel  well;  he  won't  leave 
prison.  He  wants  to  be  tried ;  he  wants  to  rise  in  all  his 
height.  He  won't  give  up  a  trial,  and  he  needn't  either. 
He  will  escape  from  Siberia." 

The  mother  sighed  and  answered  softly : 

'*  Well,  he  knows  what's  best  for  the  cause." 

Nikolay  quickly  jumped  to  his  feet,  suddenly  seized 
with  joy  again. 

''Thank  you,  Nilovna!  I've  just  lived  through  a 
magnificent  moment — maybe  the  best  moment  of  my  life. 
Thank  you!  Now,  come,  let's  give  each  other  a  good, 
strong  kiss !  " 

They  embraced,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes.  And 
they  gave  each  other  firm,  comradely  kisses, 

"  That's  good !  "  he  said  softly. 

The  mother  unclasped  her  hands  from  about  his 
neck  and  laughed  quietly  and  happily. 

^'Um!"  said  Nikolay  the  next  minute.  "If  your 
peasant  there  would  hurry  up  and  come  here!  You  see, 
we  must  be  sure  to  wTite  a  leaflet  about  Rybin  for  the 
village.  It  won't  hurt  him  once  he's  come  out  so  boldly, 
and  it  will  help  the  cause.  I'll  surely  do  it  to-day.  Liud- 
mila  will  print  it  quickly.  But  then  arises  the  question — - 
how  will  it  get  to  the  village  ?  " 

"I'll  take  it!" 

"  No,  thank  you !  "  Nikolay  exclaimed  quietly.  "  I'm 
wondering  whether  Vyesovshchikov  won't  do  for  it. 
Shall  I  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  suppose  you  try  and  instruct  him." 

"What'll  I  do  then?" 

"  Don't  worry !  " 

Nikolay  sat  down  to  write,  while  the  mother  put  the 
table  in  order,  from  time  to  time  casting  a  look  at  him. 

400 


MOTHER 

\  She  saw  how  his  pen  trembled  in  his  hand.  It  traveled 
along  the  paper  in  straight  lines.  Sometimes  the  skin  on 
his  neck  quivered;  he  threw  back  his  head  and  shut  his 
eyes.    All  this  moved  her. 

"  Execute  them !  "  she  muttered  under  her  breath. 
"  Don't  pity  the  villains  !  " 

"  There !  It's  ready !  "  he  said,  rising.  "  Hide  the 
paper  somewhere  on  your  body.  But  know  that  when  the 
gendarmes  come  they'll  search  you,  too !  " 

"  The  dogs  take  them !  "  she  answered  calmly. 

In  the  evening  Dr.  Ivan  Danilovich  came. 

"  What's  gotten  into  the  authorities  all  of  a  sudden  ?  " 
he  said,  running  about  the  room.  "  There  were  seven 
searches  last  night.    Where's  the  patient?  " 

^'  He  left  yesterday.  To-day,  you  see,  Saturday,  he 
reads  to  working  people.  He  couldn't  bring  it  over  him- 
self to  omit  the  reading." 

"  That's  stupid — to  sit  at  readings  with  a  fractured 
skull!'* 

"  I  tried  to  prove  it  to  him,  but  unsuccessfully." 

"  He  wanted  to  do  a  bit  of  boasting  before  the  com- 
rades," observed  the  mother.  "  Look !  I've  already  shed 
my  blood ! " 

The  physician  looked  at  her,  made  a  fierce  face,  and 
said  with  set  teeth: 

"  Ugh !  ugh !  you  bloodthirsty  person !  " 

"  Well,  Ivan,  you've  nothing  to  do  here,  and  we're 
expecting  guests.  Go  away!  Nilovna,  give  him  the 
paper." 

"  Another  paper  ?  " 

"  There,  take  it  and  give  it  to  the  printer." 

"I've  taken  it;  I'll  deliver  it.     Is  that  all?" 

"  That's  all.    There's  a  spy  at  the  gate." 

"  I  noticed.  At  my  door,  too.  Good-by !  Good-by, 
401 


MOTHER 

you  fierce  woman!  And  do  you  know,  friends,  a  squab- 
ble in  a  cemetery  is  a  fine  thing  after  all!  The  whole 
city's  talking  about  it.  It  stirs  the  people  up  and  com- 
pels them  to  think.  Your  article  on  that  subject  was  ex- 
cellent, and  it  came  in  time.  I  always  said  that  a  good 
fight  is  better  than  a  bad  peace." 

"  All  right.     Go  away  now !  " 

"  You're  polite !  Let's  shake  hands,  Nilovna.  And 
that  fellow  —  he  certainly  behaved  stupidly.  Do  you 
know  where  he  lives  ?  " 

Nikolay  gave  him  the  address. 

"  I  must  go  to  him  to-morrow.  He's  a  fine  fellow, 
eh?" 

"Very!" 

"  We  must  keep  him  alive ;  he  has  good  brains.  It's 
from  just  such  fellows  that  the  real  proletarian  intellect- 
uals ought  to  grow  up — men  to  take  our  places  when  we 
leave  for  the  region  where  evidently  there  are  no  class 
antagonisms.     But,  after  all,  who  knows  ?  " 

"  You've  taken  to  chattering,  Ivan." 

"  I  feel  happy,  that's  why.  Well,  I'm  going !  So 
you're  expecting  prison?  I  hope  you  get  a  good  rest 
there !  " 

"  Thank  you,  I'm  not  tired !  " 

The  mother  listened  to  their  conversation.  Their  so- 
licitude in  regard  to  the  workingmen  was  pleasant  to 
her;  and,  as  always,  the  calm  activity  of  these  people 
which  did  not  forsake  them  even  before  the  gates  of 
the  prison,  astonished  her. 

After  the  physician  left,  Nikolay  and  the  mother  con- 
versed quietly  while  awaiting  their  evening  visitors. 
Then  Nikolay  told  her  at  length  of  his  comrades  living  in 
exile;  of  those  who  had  already  escaped  and  continued 
their  work  under  assumed  names.    The  bare  walls  of  the 

402 


MOTHER 

room  echoed  the  low  sounds  of  his  voice,  as  if  listening 
in  incredulous  amazement  to  the  stories  of  modest  heroes 
who  disinterestedly  devoted  all  their  powers  to  the  great 
cause  of  liberty. 

A  shadow  kindly  enveloped  the  woman,  warming  her 
heart  with  love  for  the  unseen  people,  who  in  her  imag- 
ination united  into  one  huge  person,  full  of  inexhaustible, 
manly  force.  This  giant  slowly  but  incessantly  strides 
over  the  earth,  cleansing  it,  laying  bare  before  the  eyes 
of  the  people  the  simple  and  clear  truth  of  life  —  the 
great  truth  that  raises  humanity  from  the  dead,  wel- 
comes all  equally,  and  promises  all  alike  freedom  from 
greed,  from  wickedness,  and  falsehood,  the  three  mon- 
sters which  enslaved  and  intimidated  the  whole  world. 
The  image  evoked  in  the  mother's  soul  a  feeling  similar 
to  that  with  which  she  used  to  stand  before  an  ikon. 
After  she  had  offered  her  joyful,  grateful  prayer,  the 
day  had  then  seemed  lighter  than  the  other  days  of  her 
life.  Now  she  forgot  those  days.  But  the  feeling  left 
by  them  had  broadened,  had  become  brighter  and  better, 
had  grown  more  deeply  into  her  soul.  It  was  more  keenly 
alive  and  burned  more  luminously. 

*'  But  the  gendarmes  aren't  coming !  "  Nikolay  ex- 
claimed suddenly,  interrupting  his  story. 

The  mother  looked  at  him,  and  after  a  pause  an- 
swered in  vexation: 

"  Oh,  well,  let  them  go  to  the  dogs ! " 

"  Of  course !  But  it's  time  for  you  to  go  to  bed,  Ni- 
lovna.  You  must  be  desperately  tired.  You're  wonder- 
fully strong,  I  must  say.  So  much  commotion  and  dis- 
turbance, and  you  live  through  it  all  so  lightly.  Only 
your  hair  is  turning  gray  very  quickly.  Now  go  aivl 
rest." 

They  pressed  each  other's  hand  and  parted. 
403 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HE  mother  fell  quickly  into  a  calm  sleep, 
and  rose  early  in  the  morning,  awakened 
by  a  subdued  tap  at  the  kitchen  door.    The 
knock  was  incessant  and  patiently  persist- 
ent.    It  was  still  dark  and  quiet,  and  the 
rapping  broke  in  alarmingly  on  the  stillness.     Dressing 
herself  rapidly,   she   walked  out  into  the  kitchen,  and 
standing  at  the  door  asked : 
"Who's  there?" 

"  I,"  answered  an  unfamiliar  voice. 
"Who?" 

"  Open."    The  quiet  word  was  spoken  in  entreaty. 
The  mother  lifted  the  hook,  pushed  the  door  with  her 
foot,  and  Ignaty  entered,  saying  cheerfully : 

"  Well,  so  Tm  not  mistaken.    I'm  at  the  right  place." 
He  was  spattered  with  mud  up  to  his  belt.    His  face 
was  gray,  his  eyes  fallen. 

"  We've  gotten  into  trouble  in  our  place,"  he  whis- 
pered, locking  the  door  behind  him. 
"  I  know  it." 

The  reply  astonished  the  young  man.    He  blinked  and 
asked : 

"How?    Where  from?" 

She  explained  in  a  few  rapid  words,  and  asked : 
"  Did  they  take  the  other  comrades,  too?  " 
"  They  weren't  there.     They  had  gone  off  to  be  re- 
cruited.    Five  were  captured,  including  Rybin." 
He  snuffled  and  said,  smiling: 
404 


MOTHER 

"  And  I  was  left  over.  I  guess  they're  looking  for 
me.  Let  them  look.  Fm  not  going  back  there  again,  not 
for  anything.  There  are  other  people  there  yet,  some 
seven  young  men  and  a  girl.  Never  mind !  They're  all 
reliable." 

"  How  did  you  find  this  place  ?  "    The  mother  smiled. 

The  door  from  the  room  opened  quietly. 

"  I  ? "  Seating  himself  on  a  bench  and  looking 
around,  Ignaty  exclaimed :  "  They  crawled  up  at  night, 
straight  to  the  tar  works.  Well,  a  minute  before  they 
came  the  forester  ran  up  to  us  and  knocked  on  the  win- 
dow. *  Look  out,  boys,'  says  he,  *  they're  coming  on 
you.' " 

He  laughed  softly,  wiped  his  face  with  the  flap  of  his 
coat,  and  continued: 

"  Well,  they  can't  stun  Uncle  Mikhail  even  with  a 
hammer.  At  once  he  says  to  me,  *  Ignaty,  run  away  to 
the  city,  quick !  You  remember  the  elderly  woman.'  And 
he  himself  writes  a  note.  '  There,  go !  Good-by,  brother.* 
He  pushed  me  in  the  back.  I  flung  out  of  the  hut.  I 
scrambled  along  on  all  fours  through  the  bushes,  and  I 
hear  them  coming.  There  must  have  been  a  lot  of  them. 
You  could  hear  the  rustling  on  all  sides,  the  devils — like 
a  moose  around  the  tar  works.  I  lay  in  the  bushes.  They 
passed  by  me.  Then  I  rose  and  off  I  went ;  and  for  two 
nights  and  a  whole  day  I  walked  without  stopping.  My 
feet'U  ache  for  a  week." 

He  was  evidently  satisfied  with  himself.  A  smile 
shone  in  his  hazel  eyes.    His  full  red  lips  quivered. 

"  I'll  set  you  up  with  some  tea  soon.  You  wash  your- 
self while  I  get  the  samovar  ready." 

"  I'll  give  you  the  note."  He  raised  his  leg  with  dif- 
ficulty, and  frowning  and  groaning  put  his  foot  on  the 
bench  and  began  to  untie  the  leg  wrappings. 

405 


MOTHER 

"  I  got  frightened.    '  Well/  thinks  I,  '  Vm  a  goner/  " 

Nikolay  appeared  at  the  door.  Ignaty  in  embar- 
rassment dropped  his  foot  to  the  floor  and  wanted  to 
rise,  but  staggered  and  fell  heavily  on  the  bench,  catching 
himself  with  his  hands. 

"  You  sit  still !  "  exclaimed  the  mother. 

"How  do  you  do,  comrade?"  said  Nikolay,  screw- 
ing up  his  eyes  good-naturedly  and  nodding  his  head. 
*'  Allow  me,  I'll  help  you." 

Kneeling  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  peasant,  he 
quickly  unwound  the  dirty,  damp  wrappings. 

"  Well !  "  the  fellow  exclaimed  quietly,  pulling  back 
his  foot  and  blinking  in  astonishment.  He  regarded  the 
mother,  who  said,  without  paying  attention  to  his  look: 

"  His  legs  ought  to  be  rubbed  down  with  alcohol." 

''  Of  course !  "  said  Nikolay. 

Ignaty  snorted  in  embarrassment.  Nikoly  found  the 
note,  straightened  it  out,  looked  at  it,  and  handed  the 
gray,  crumpled  piece  of  paper  to  the  mother. 

"  For  you." 

"  Read  it." 

*' '  Mother,  don't  let  the  affair  go  without  your  at- 
tention. Tell  the  tall  lady  not  to  forget  to  have  them 
write  more  for  our  cause,  I  beg  of  you.  Good-by.  Ry- 
bin.'  " 

"  My  darling !  "  said  the  mother  sadly.  "  They've 
already  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  he " 

Nikolay  slowly  dropped  his  hand  holding  the  note. 

"  That's  magnificent !  "  he  said  slowly  and  respect- 
fully.    "  It  both  touches  and  teaches." 

Ignaty  looked  at  them,  and  quietly  shook  his  bared 
feet  with  his  dirty  hands.  The  mother,  covering  her  tear- 
ful face,  walked  up  to  him  with  a  basin  of  water,  sat  down 
on  the  floor,  and  stretched  out  her  hands  to  his  feet.    But 

406 


MOTHER 

he  quickly  thrust  them  under  the  bench,  exclaiming  in 
fright : 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Give  me  your  foot,  quick !  " 

"  I'll  bring  the  alcohol  at  once,"  said  Nikolay. 

The  young  man  shoved  his  foot  still  farther  under 
the  bench  and  mumbled: 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?    It's  not  proper." 

Then  the  mother  silently  unbared  his  other  foot.  Ig- 
naty's  round  face  lengthened  in  amazement.  He  looked 
around  helplessly  with  his  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Why,  it's  going  to  tickle  me !  " 

"  You'll  be  able  to  bear  it,"  answered  the  mother,  be- 
ginning to  wash  his  feet. 

Ignaty  snorted  aloud,  and  moving  his  neck  awk- 
wardly looked  down  at  her,  comically  drooping  his 
under  lip. 

"  And  do  you  know,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  that  they 
beat  Mikhail  Ivanovich  ?  " 

*'  What  ?  "  the  peasant  exclaimed  in  fright. 

*'  Yes ;  he  had  been  beaten  when  they  led  him  to  the 
village,  and  in  Nikolsk  the  sergeant  beat  him,  the  police 
commissioner  beat  him  in  the  face  and  kicked  him  till  he 
bled."  The  mother  became  silent,  overwhelmed  by  her 
recollections. 

"They  can  do  it,"  said  the  peasant,  lowering  his 
brows  sullenly.  His  shoulders  shook.  "  That  is,  I  fear 
them  like  the  devils.  And  the  peasants — didn't  the  peas- 
ants beat  him  ?  " 

"  One  beat  him.  The  police  commissioner  ordered 
him  to.  All  the  others  were  so  so — they  even  took  his 
part.    *  You  mustn't  beat  him ! '  they  said." 

"  Um !  Yes,  yes !  The  peasants  are  beginning  to 
realize  where  a  man  stands,  and  for  what  he  stands." 

407 


MOTHER 

"  There  are  sensible  people  there,  too." 

**  Where  can't  you  find  sensible  people?  Necessity! 
They're  everywhere ;  but  it's  hard  to  get  at  them.  They 
hide  themselves  in  chinks  and  crevices,  and  suck  their 
hearts  out  each  one  for  himself.  Their  resolution  isn't 
strong  enough  to  make  them  gather  into  a  group." 

Nikolay  brought  a  bottle  of  alcohol,  put  coals  in  the 
samovar,  and  walked  away  silently.  Ignaty  accompanied 
him  with  a  curious  look. 

'*  A  gentleman  ?  " 

"  In  this  business  there  are  no  masters ;  they're  all 
comrades !  " 

"  It's  strange  to  me/'  said  Ignaty  with  a  skeptical  but 
embarrassed  smile. 

'*  What's  strange?'* 

"  This :  at  one  end  they  beat  you  in  the  face ;  at  the 
other  they  wash  your  feet.  Is  there  a  middle  of  any 
kind?" 

The  door  of  the  room  was  flung  open  and  Nikolay, 
standing  on  the  threshold,  said : 

''  And  in  the  middle  stand  the  people  who  lick  the 
hands  of  those  who  beat  you  in  the  face  and  suck  the 
blood  of  those  whose  faces  are  beaten.  That's  the 
middle!" 

Ignaty  looked  at  him  respectfully,  and  after  a  pause 
said:    "That's  it!" 

The  mother  sighed.  "  Mikhail  Ivanovich  also  always 
used  to  say,  *  That's  it ! '  like  an  ax  blow." 

"  Nilovna,  you're  evidently  tired.   Permit  me — I " 

The  peasant  pulled  his  feet  uneasily. 

''  That'll  do ; "  said  the  mother,  rising.  "  Well, 
Ignaty,  now  wash  yourself." 

The  young  man  arose,  shifted  his  feet  about,  and 
stepped  firmly  on  the  floor. 

408 


MOTHMR 

"  They  seem  like  new  feet.  Thank  you !  Many, 
many  thanks ! " 

He  drew  a  wry  face,  his  lips  trembled,  and  his  eyes 
reddened.  After  a  pause,  during  which  he  regarded  the 
basin  of  black  water,  he  whispered  softly: 

"  I  don't  even  know  how  to  thank  you !  " 

Then  they  sat  down  to  the  table  to  drink  tea.  And 
Ignaty  soberly  began: 

"  I  was  the  distributer  of  literature,  a  very  strong  fel- 
low at  walking.  Uncle  Mikhail  gave  me  the  job.  *  Dis- 
tribute ! '  says  he ;  *  and  if  you  get  caught  you're  alone.'  " 

"  Do  many  people  read  ?  "  asked  Nikolay. 

"  All  who  can.  Even  some  of  the  rich  read.  Of 
course,  they  don't  get  it  from  us.  They'd  clap  us  right 
into  chains  if  they  did!  They  understand  that  this  is  a 
slipknot  for  them  in  all  ages." 

"Why  a  slipknot?" 

"  What  else ! "  exclaimed  Ignaty  in  amazement. 
"  Why,  the  peasants  are  themselves  going  to  take  the 
land  from  everyone  else.  They'll  wash  it  out  with  their 
blood  from  under  the  gentry  and  the  rich ;  that  is  to  say, 
they  themselves  are  going  to  divide  it,  and  divide  it  so 
that  there  won't  be  masters  or  workingmen  anymore. 
How  then?  What's  the  use  of  getting  into  a  scrap  if 
not  for  that?" 

Ignaty  even  seemed  to  be  offended.  He  looked  at 
Nikolay  mistrustfully  and  skeptically.    Nikolay  smiled. 

"  Don't  get  angry,"  said  the  mother  jokingly. 

Nikolay  thoughtfully  exclaimed : 

"  How  shall  we  get  the  leaflets  about  Rybin's  arrest 
to  the  village  ?  "    Ignaty  grew  attentive. 

"  I'll  speak  to  Vyesovshchikov  to-day." 

"  Is  there  a  leaflet  already  ?  "  asked  Ignaty. 

"  Yes." 

409 


MOTHER 

"  Give  it  to  me.  I'll  take  it."  Ignaty  rubbed  his 
hands  at  the  suggestion,  his  eyes  flashing.  "  I  know 
where  and  how.    Let  me." 

The  mother  laughed  quietly,  without  looking  at  him. 

**  Why,  you're  tired  and  afraid,  and  you  said  you'd 
never  go  there  again !  " 

Ignaty  smacked  his  lips  and  stroked  his  curly  hair 
with  his  broad  palm. 

*'  I'm  tired;  I'll  rest;  and  of  course  I'm  afraid!  "  His 
manner  was  businesslike  and  calm.  "  They  beat  a  man 
until  the  blood  comes,  as  you  yourself  say — then  who 
wants  to  be  mutilated?  But  I'll  pull  through  somehow 
at  night.  Never  mind !  Give  me  the  leaflets ;  this  eve- 
ning I'll  get  on  the  go."  He  was  silent,  thought  a  while, 
his  eyebrows  working.  "I'll  go  to  the  forest;  I'll  hide 
the  literature,  and  then  I'll  notify  our  fellows :  '  Go 
get  it.'  That's  better.  If  I  myself  should  distribute  them 
I  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  for  the  leaflets.  You  must  act  carefully  here. 
There  are  not  many  such  leaflets  !  " 

"  And  how  about  your  fear  ?  "  the  mother  observed 
again  with  a  smile.  This  curly-haired,  robust  fellow  put 
her  into  a  good  humor  by  his  sincerity,  which  sounded  in 
his  every  word,  and  shone  from  his  round,  determined  face. 

"  Fear  is  fear,  and  business  is  business !  "  he  answered 
with  a  grin.  "  Why  are  you  laughing  at  me,  eh  ?  You, 
too !  Why,  isn't  it  natural  to  be  afraid  in  this  matter  ? 
Well,  and  if  it's  necessary  a  man'll  go  into  a  fire.  Such 
an  affair,  it  requires  it." 

"  Ah,  you,  my  child !  " 

Ignaty,  embarrassed,  smiled.  "  Well,  there  you  are — 
child !  "  he  said. 

Nikolay  began  to  speak,  all  the  time  looking  good- 
naturedly  with  screwed-up  eyes  at  the  young  peasant. 

410 


MOTHER 

"  You're  not  going  there !  " 

''Then  what'll  I  do?  Where  am  I  to  be?"  Ignaty 
asked  uneasily. 

"  Another  fellow  will  go  in  place  of  you.  And  you'll 
tell  him  in  detail  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it." 

'*  All  right !  "  said  Ignaty.  But  his  consent  was  not 
given  at  once,  and  then  only  reluctantly. 

"  And  for  you  we'll  obtain  a  good  passport  and  make 
you  a  forester." 

The  young  fellow  quickly  threw  back  his  head  and 
asked  uneasily: 

"  But  if  the  peasants  come  there  for  wood,  or  there 
— in  general — what'll  I  do?  Bind  them?  That  doesn't 
suit  me." 

The  mother  laughed,  and  Nikolay,  coo.  This  again 
confused  and  vexed  Ignaty. 

"  Don't  be  uneasy !  "  Nikolay  soothed  him.  "  You 
won't  have  to  bind  peasants.    You  trust  us." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Ignaty,  set  at  ease,  smihng  at 
Nikolay  with  confidence  and  merriness  in  his  eyes.  "  If 
you  could  get  me  to  the  factory.  There,  they  say,  the 
fellows  are  mighty  smart." 

A  fire  seemed  to  be  ever  burning  in  his  broad  chest, 
unsteady  as  yet,  not  confident  in  its  own  power.  It  flashed 
brightly  in  his  eyes,  forced  out  from  within;  but  sud- 
denly it  would  nearly  expire  in  fright  and  flicker  behind 
the  smoke  of  perplexed  alarm  and  embarrassment. 

The  mother  rose  from  behind  the  table,  and  looking 
through  the  window  reflected : 

'*  Ah,  life !  Five  times  in  the  day  you  laugh  and  five 
times  you  weep.  All  right.  Well,  are  you  through,  Ig- 
naty ?     Go  to  bed  and  sleep." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to." 

**  Go  on,  go  on !  " 

27  411 


MOTHER 

"  You're  stern  in  this  place.  Thank  you  for  the  tea, 
for  the  sugar,  for  the  kindness." 

Lying  down  in  the  mother's  bed  he  mumbled,  scratch- 
ing his  head: 

"  Now  everything'll  smell  of  tar  in  your  place.  Ah, 
it's  all  for  nothing  all  this — plain  coddling !  I  don't  want 
to  sleep.  You're  good  people,  yes.  It's  more  than  I  can 
understand — as  if  I'd  gotten  a  hundred  thousand  miles 
away  from  the  village — how  he  hit  it  off  about  the  mid- 
dle—  and  in  the  middle  are  the  people  who  lick  the 
hands — of  those  who  beat  the  faces — um,  yes." 

And  suddenly  he  gave  a  loud  short  snore  and  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  with  eyebrows  raised  high  and  half-open 
mouth. 

Late  at  night  he  sat  in  a  little  room  of  a  basement 
at  a  table  opposite  Vyesovshchikov.  He  said  in  a  sub- 
dued tone,  knitting  his  brows : 

"  On  the  middle  window,  four  times." 

"  Four." 

"  At  first  three  times  like  this  " — he  counted  aloud  as 
he  tapped  thrice  on  the  table  with  his  forefinger.  *'  Then 
waiting  a  little,  once  again." 

*'  I  understand." 

"  A  red-haired  peasant  will  open  the  door  for  you,  and 
will  ask  you  for  the  midwife.  You'll  tell  him,  *  Yes,  from 
the  boss.'  Nothing  else.  He'll  understand  your  busi- 
ness." 

They  sat  with  heads  bent  toward  each  other,  both 
robust  fellows,  conversing  in  half  tones.  The  mother, 
with  her  arms  folded  on  her  bosom,  stood  at  the  table 
looking  at  them.  All  the  secret  tricks  and  passwords 
compelled  her  to  smile  inwardly  as  she  thought,  "  Mere 
children  still." 

412 


MOTHER 

A  lamp  burned  on  the  wall,  illuminating  a  dark  spot 
of  dampness  and  pictures  from  journals.  On  the  floor 
old  pails  were  lying  around,  fragments  of  slate  iron.  A 
large,  bright  star  out  in  the  high  darkness  shone  into  the 
window.  The  odor  of  mildew,  paint,  and  damp  earth 
filled  the  room. 

Ignaty  was  dressed  in  a  thick  autumn  overcoat  of 
shaggy  material.  It  pleased  him;  the  mother  observed 
how  he  stroked  it  admiringly  with  the  palm  of  his  hand, 
how  he  looked  at  himself,  clumsily  turning  his  powerful 
neck.  Her  bosom  beat  tenderly  with,  "  My  dears,  my 
children,  rhy  own.'* 

"  There !  "  said  Ignaty,  rising.  "  You'll  remember, 
then  ?    First  you  go  to  Muratov  and  ask  for  grandfather." 

"  I  remember." 

But  Ignaty  was  still  distrustful  of  Nikolay's  memory, 
and  reiterated  all  the  instructions,  words,  and  signs,  and 
finally  extended  his  hand  to  him,  saying: 

"  That's  all  now.  Good-by,  comrade.  Give  my  re- 
gards to  them.  I'm  alive  and  strong.  The  people  there 
are  good — you'll  see."  He  cast  a  satisfied  glance  down 
at  himself,  stroked  the  overcoat,  and  asked  the  mother, 
"Shall  I  go?" 

"  Can  you  find  the  way?  " 

"  Yes.    Good-by,  then,  dear  comrades." 

He  walked  off,  raising  his  shoulders  high,  thrusting 
out  his  chest,  with  his  new  hat  cocked  to  one  side,  and 
his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  in  most  dignified  fashion. 
On  his  forehead  and  temples  his  bright,  boyish  curls 
danced  gayly. 

"  There,  now,  I  have  work,  too,"  said  Vyesovshchikov, 
going  over  to  the  mother  quietly.  ''  I'm  bored  already — 
jumped  out  of  prison — what  for  ?  My  only  occupation  is 
hiding — and  there  I  was  learning.    Pavel  so  pressed  your 

413 


MOTHER 

brains — it  was  one  pure  delight.  And  Andrey,  too,  pol- 
ished us  fellows  zealously.  Well,  Nilovna,  did  you  hear 
how  they  decided  in  regard  to  the  escape?  Will  they 
arrange  it  ?  " 

"  They'll  find  out  day  after  to-morrow,"  she  repeated, 
sighing  involuntarily.  "  One  day  still — day  after  to- 
morrow." 

Laying  his  heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  bringing 
his  face  close  to  hers,  Nikolay  said  animatedly : 

"  You  tell  them,  the  older  ones  there — they'll  listen  to 
you.  Why,  it's  very  easy.  You  just  see  for  yourself. 
There's  the  wall  of  the  prison  near  the  lamp-post ;  oppo- 
site is  an  empty  lot,  on  the  left  the  cemetery,  on  the  right 
the  streets — the  city.  The  lamplighter  goes  to  the  lamp- 
post ;  by  day  he  cleans  the  lamp ;  he  puts  the  ladder  against 
the  wall,  climbs  up,  screws  hooks  for  a  rope  ladder  onto 
the  top  of  the  wall,  lets  the  rope  ladder  down  into  the 
prison  yard,  and  ofif  he  goes.  There  inside  the  walls 
they  know  the  time  when  this  will  be  done,  and  will  ask 
the  criminals  to  arrange  an  uproar,  or  they'll  arrange  it 
themselves,  and  those  who  need  it  will  go  up  the  ladder 
over  the  wall — one,  two,  it's  done.  And  they  calmly  pro- 
ceed to  the  city  because  the  chase  throws  itself  first  of 
all  on  the  vacant  lot  and  the  cemeter)\" 

He  gesticulated  rapidly  in  front  of  the  mother's  face, 
drawing  his  plan,  the  details  of  which  were  clear,  simple, 
and  clever.  She  had  known  him  as  a  clumsy  fellow,  and 
it  was  strange  to  her  to  see  the  pockmarked  face  with  the 
high  cheek  bones,  usually  so  gloomy,  now  lively  and  alert. 
The  narrow  gray  eyes,  formerly  harsh  and  cold,  looking 
at  the  world  sullenly  with  malice  and  distrust,  seemed  to 
be  chiseled  anew,  assuming  an  oval  form  and  shining  with 
an  even,  warm  light  that  convinced  and  moved  the 
mother. 

414 


MOTHER 

"  You  think  of  it — by  day,  without  fail  by  day.  To 
whom  would  it  occur  that  a  prisoner  wouli  make  up  his 
mind  to  escape  by  day  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  prison  ?  " 

"  And  they'll  shoot  him  down,"  the  woman  said 
trembling. 

"  Who  ?  There  are  no  soldiers,  and  the  overseers  of 
the  prison  use  their  revolvers  to  drive  nails  in." 

"  Why,  it's  very  simple — all  this." 

"  And  you'll  see  it'll  all  come  out  all  right.  No. 
You  speak  to  them.  I  have  everything  prepared  already 
— the  rope  ladder,  the  screw  hooks ;  I  spoke  to  my  host, 
he'll  be  the  lamplighter." 

Somebody  stirred  noisily  at  the  door  and  coughed,  and 
iron  clanked. 

"  There  he  is !  "  exclaimed  Nikolay. 

At  the  open  door  a  tin  bathtub  was  thrust  in,  and  a 
hoarse  voice  said : 

"  Get  in,  you  devil." 

Then  a  round,  gray,  hatless  head  appeared.  It  had 
protruding  eyes  and  a  mustache,  and  wore  a  good-natured 
expression.  Nikolay  helped  the  man  in  with  the  tub.  A 
tall,  stooping  figure  strode  through  the  door.  The  man 
coughed,  his  shaven  cheeks  puffing  up;  he  spat  out  and 
greeted  hoarsely: 

"  Good  health  to  you !  " 

"There!    Ask  him!" 

''Me?    What  about?" 

"  About  the  escape." 

"  Ah,  ah !  "  said  the  host,  wiping  his  mustache  with 
black  fingers. 

"  There,  Yakob  Vasilyevich !  She  doesn't  believe  it's 
a  simple  matter !  " 

''  Hm !  she  doesn't  believe !  Not  to  believe  means 
not  to  want  to  believe.    You  and  I  want  to,  and  so  we 

415 


MOTHER 

believe."  The  old  man  suddenly  bent  over  and  coughed 
hoarsely,  rubbed  his  breast  for  a  long  time,  while  he 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  panting  for  breath  and 
scanning  the  mother  with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Fm  not  the  one  to  decide,  Nikolay." 

"  But,  mother,  you  talk  with  them.  Tell  them  every- 
thing is  ready.  Ah,  if  I  could  only  see  them !  I'd  force 
them !  "  He  threw  out  his  hands  with  a  broad  gesture 
and  pressed  them  together  as  if  embracing  something 
firmly,  and  his  voice  rang  with  hot  feeling  that  astounded 
the  mother  by  its  power. 

"  Hm !  what  a  fellow  you  are !  "  she  thought ;  but 
said  aloud :  "  It's  for  Pasha  and  the  comrades  to  decide." 

Nikolay  thoughtfully  inclined  his  head. 

"  Who's  this  Pasha?  "  asked  the  host,  seating  himself. 

"  My  son." 

"What's  the  family?" 

"  Vlasov." 

He  nodded  his  head,  got  his  tobacco  pouch,  whipped 
out  his  pipe  and  filled  it  with  tobacco.  He  spoke 
brokenly : 

"  I've  heard  of  him.  My  nephew  knows  him.  He, 
too,  is  in  prison  —  my  nephew  Yevchenko.  Have  you 
heard  of  him?  And  my  family  is  Godun.  They'll  soon 
shut  all  the  young  people  in  prison,  and  then  there'll  be 
plenty  and  comfort  for  us  old  folks.  The  gendarme  as- 
sures me  that  my  nephew  will  even  be  sent  to  Siberia. 
They'll  exile  him — the  dogs !  " 

Lighting  his  pipe,  he  turned  to  Nikolay,  spitting  fre- 
quently on  the  floor: 

**  So  she  doesn't  want  to?  Well,  that's  her  affair! 
A  person  is  free  to  feel  as  he  wants  to.  Are  you  tired  of 
sitting  in  prison?  Go.  Are  you  tired  of  going?  Sit. 
They  robbed  you  ?    Keep  still.    They  beat  you  ?    Bear  it. 

416 


MOTHER 

They  have  killed  you  ?  Stay  dead.  That's  certain.  And 
I'll  carry  off  Savka ;  I'll  carry  him  off ! "  His  curt,  bark- 
ing phrases,  full  of  good-natured  irony,  perplexed  the 
mother.    But  his  last  words  aroused  envy  in  her. 

While  walking  along  the  street  in  the  face  of  a  cold 
wind  and  rain,  she  thought  of  Nikolay,  "  What  a  man 
he's  become !  Think  of  it ! ''  And  remembering  Godun, 
she  almost  prayerfully  reflected,  "  It  seems  I'm  not  the 
only  one  who  lives  for  the  new.  It's  a  big  fire  if  it  so 
cleanses  and  burns  all  who  see  it."  Then  she  thought  of 
her  son,  "  If  he  only  agreed!  " 

On  Sunday,  taking  leave  of  Pavel  in  the  waiting  room 
of  the  prison,  she  felt  a  little  lump  of  paper  in  her  hand. 
She  started  as  if  it  burned  her  skin,  and  cast  a  look  of 
question  and  entreaty  into  her  son's  face.  But  she  found 
no  answer  there.  Pavel's  blue  eyes  smiled  with  the  usual 
composed  smile  familiar  to  her. 

^'  Good-by !  "  she  sighed. 

The  son  again  put  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  a  certain 
kindness  and  tenderness  for  her  quivered  on  his  face. 
"  Good-by,  mamma !  " 

She  waited  without  letting  go  of  his  hand.  "  Don't 
be  uneasy — don't  be  angry,"  he  said. 

These  words  and  the  stubborn  folds  between  his 
brows  answered  her  question.  "  Well,  what  do  you 
mean?"  she  muttered,  drooping  her  head.  "What  of 
it  ?  "  And  she  quickly  walked  away  without  looking  at 
him,  in  order  not  to  betray  her  feelings  by  the  tears  in 
her  eyes  and  the  quiver  of  her  lips.  On  the  road  she 
thought  that  the  bones  of  the  hand  which  had  pressed  her 
son's  hand  ached  and  grew  heavy,  as  if  she  had  been 
struck  on  the  shoulder. 

At  home,  after  thrusting  the  note  into.Nikolay's  hand, 
she  stood  before  him,  and  waited  while  he  smoothed  out 

417 


MOTHER 

the  tight  Httle  roll.     She  felt  a  tremor  of  hope  again ;  but 
Nikolay  said : 

*'  Of  course,  this  is  what  he  writes :  '  We  will  not  go 
away,  comrade ;  we  cannot,  not  one  of  us.  We  should 
lose  respect  for  ourselves.  Take  into  consideration  the 
peasant  recently  arrested.  He  has  merited  your  solici- 
tude ;  he  deserves  that  you  expend  much  time  and  energy 
on  him.  It's  very  hard  for  him  here — daily  collisions 
with  the  authorities.  He's  already  had  the  twenty-four 
hours  of  the  dark  cell.  They  torture  him  to  death.  We 
all  intercede  for  him.  Soothe  and  be  kind  to  my  mother ; 
tell  her;  she'll  understand  all.     Pavel.'  " 

The  mother  straightened  herself  easily,  and  proudly 
tossed  her  head. 

"  Well,  what  is  there  to  tell  me?  "  she  said  firmly.  "  I 
understand — they  want  to  go  straight  at  the  authorities 
again — '  there  !  condemn  the  truth ! '  " 

Nikolay  quickly  turned  aside,  took  out  his  handker- 
chief, blew  his  nose  aloud,  and  mumbled :  "  I've  caught 
a  cold,  you  see !  "  Covering  his  eyes  with  his  hands, 
under  the  pretext  of  adjusting  his  glasses,  he  paced  up 
and  down  the  room,  and  said :  "  We  shouldn't  have  been 
successful  anyway." 

"  Never  mind ;  let  the  trial  come  off ! "  said  the 
mother  frowning. 

**  Here,  I've  received  a  letter  from  a  comrade  in  St. 
Petersburg " 

"  He  can  escape  from  Siberia,  too,  can't  he  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  The  comrade  writes  :  *  The  trial  is  ap- 
pointed for  the  near  future ;  the  sentence  is  certain — exile 
for  everybody ! '  You  see,  these  petty  cheats  convert  their 
court  into  the  most  trivial  comedy.  You  understand? 
Sentence  is  pronounced  in  St.  Petersburg  before  the 
trial." 

418 


MOTHER 

"  Stop !  "  the  mother  said  resolutely.  "  You  needn't 
comfort  me  or  explain  to  me.  Pasha  won't  do  what  isn't 
right  —  he  won't  torture  himself  for  nothing."  She 
paused  to  catch  breath.  "  Nor  will  he  torture  others,  and 
he  loves  me,  yes.  You  see,  he  thinks  of  me.  '  Ex- 
plain to  her/  he  writes ;  '  soothe  her  and  comfort  her/ 
eh?" 

Her  heart  beat  quickly  but  boldly,  and  her  head 
whirled  slightly  from  excitement. 

"  Your  son's  a  splendid  man !  I  respect  and  love  him 
very  much." 

"  I  tell  you  what — let's  think  of  something  in  regard 
to  Rybin/'  she  suggested. 

She  wanted  to  do  something  forthwith  —  go  some- 
where, walk  till  she  dropped  from  exhaustion,  and  then 
fall  asleep,  content  with  the  day's  work. 

"  Yes — very  well!  "  said  Nikolay,  pacing  through  the 
room.    "  Why  not?    We  ought  to  have  Sashenka  here!  " 

"  She'll  be  here  soon.  She  always  comes  on  my  vis- 
iting day  to  Pasha." 

Thoughtfully  drooping  his  head,  biting  his  lips  and 
twisting  his  beard,  Nikolay  sat  on  the  sofa  by  the 
mother's  side. 

"  Vm  sorry  my  sister  isn't  here.  She  ought  to  occupy 
herself  with  Rybin's  case." 

"  It  would  be  well  to  arrange  it  at  once,  while  Pasha 
is  there.    It  would  be  pleasant  for  him." 

The  bell  rang.     They  looked  at  each  other. 

"  That's  Sasha,"  Nikolay  whispered. 

"  How  will  you  tell  her  ?  "  the  mother  whispered  back. 

*'  Yes— um  !— it's  hard !  " 

"  I  pity  her  very  much." 

The  bell  rang  again,  not  so  loud,  as  if  the  person  on 
the  other  side  of  the  door  had  also  fallen  to  thinking  and 

419 


MOTHER 

hesitated.     Nikolay  and  the  mother  rose  simultaneously, 
but  at  the  kitchen  door  Nikolay  turned  aside. 

''  You'd  better  do  it,"  he  said. 

"  He's  not  willing  ?  "  the  girl  asked  the  moment  the 
mother  opened  the  door. 

"  No." 

"  I  knew  it !  "  Sasha's  face  paled.  She  unbuttoned 
her  coat,  fastened  two  buttons  again,  then  tried  to  remove 
her  coat,  unsuccessfully,  of  course.  "  Dreadful  weather 
— rain,  wind ;  it's  disgusting !    Is  he  well  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

''  Well  and  happy ;  always  the  same,  and  only  this — " 
Her  tone  was  disconsolate,  and  she  regarded  her  hands. 

"  He  writes  that  Rybin  ought  to  be  freed."  The 
mother  kept  her  eyes  turned  from  the  girl. 

"  Yes  ?  It  seems  to  me  we  ought  to  make  use  of  this 
plan." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Nikolay,  appearing  at  the 
door.     "  How  do  you  do,  Sasha  ?  " 

The  girl  asked,  extending  her  hand  to  him : 

"  What's  the  question  about  ?  Aren't  all  agreed  that 
the  plan  is  practicable?     I  know  they  are." 

"  And  who'll  organize  it?    Everybody's  occupied." 

*'  Give  it  to  me,"  said  Sasha,  quickly  jumping  to  her 
feet.    **  I  have  time !  " 

"  Take  it.    But  you  must  ask  others." 

"  Very  well,  I  will.     I'll  go  at  once." 

She  began  to  button  up  her  coat  again  with  sure,  thin 
fingers. 

*'  You  ought  to  rest  a  little,"  the  mother  advised. 

Sasha  smiled  and  answered  in  a  softer  voice: 

"  Don't  worry  about  me.  I'm  not  tired."  And 
silently  pressing  their  hands,  she  left  once  more,  cold  and 
stern. 

420 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HE  mother  and  Nikolay,  walking  up  to  the 
window,  watched  the  girl  pass  through  the 
yard  and  disappear  beyond  the  gate.  Niko- 
lay whistled  quietly,  sat  down  at  the  table 
and  began  to  write. 
"  She'll  occupy  herself  with  this  affair,  and  It'll  be 
easier  for  her,"  the  mother  reflected. 

"  Yes,  of  course !  "  responded  Nikolay,  and  turning 
around  to  the  mother  with  a  kind  smile  on  his  face, 
asked :  "  And  how  about  you,  Nilovna — did  this  cup  of 
bitterness  escape  you?  Did  you  never  know  the  pangs 
for  a  beloved  person  ?  " 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  mother  with  a  wave  of  her 
hand.  "  What  sort  of  a  pang  ?  The  fear  they  had 
whether  they  won't  marry  me  off  to  this  man  or  that 
man?" 

"  And  you  liked  no  one  ?  " 
She  thought  a  little,  and  answered : 
"  I  don't  recall,  my  dear !    How  can  it  be  that  I  didn't 
like  anybody  ?    I  suppose  there  was  somebody  I  was  fond 
of,  but  I  don't  remember." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  concluded  simply,  with  sad 
composure  :  "  My  husband  beat  me  a  lot ;  and  everything 
that  was  before  him  was  effaced  from  my  soul." 

Nikolay  turned  back  to  the  table ;  the  mother  walked 
out  of  the  room  for  a  minute.     On  her  return  Nikolay 

421 


MOTHER 

looked  at  her  kindly  and  began  to  speak  softly  and  lov- 
ingly.   His  reminiscences  stroked  her  like  a  caress. 

"  And  I,  you  see,  was  like  Sashenka.  I  loved  a  girl : 
a  marvelous  being,  a  wonder,  a — guiding  star;  she  was 
gentle  and  bright  for  me.  I  met  her  about  twenty  years 
ago,  and  from  that  time  on  I  loved  her.  And  I  love  her 
now,  too,  to  speak  the  truth.  I  love  her  all  so— with  my 
whole  soul — gratefully — forever !  " 

Standing  by  his  side  the  mother  saw  his  eyes  lighted 
from  within  by  a  clear,  warm  light.  His  hands  folded 
over  the  back  of  the  chair,  and  his  head  leaning  on  them, 
he  looked  into  the  distance;  his  whole  body,  lean  and 
slender,  but  powerful,  seemed  to  strive  upward,  like  the 
stalk  of  a  plant  toward  the  sun. 

*'  Why  didn't  you  marry  ?    You  should  have  I  " 

"  Oh,  she's  been  married  five  years !  " 

"  And  before  that — what  was  the  matter  ?  Didn't  she 
love  you  ?  " 

He  thought  a  while,  and  answered: 

"  Yes,  apparently  she  loved  me ;  I'm  certain  she  did. 
But,  you  see,  it  was  always  this  way:  I  was  in  prison, 
she  was  free ;  I  was  free,  she  was  in  prison  or  in  exile. 
That's  very  much  like  Sasha's  position,  really.  Finally 
they  exiled  her  to  Siberia  for  ten  years.  I  wanted  to  fol- 
low her,  but  I  was  ashamed  and  she  was  ashamed,  and  I 
remained  here.  Then  she  met  another  man — a  comrade 
of  mine,  a  very  good  fellow,  and  they  escaped  together. 
Now  they  live  abroad.    Yes " 

Nikolay  took  off  his  glasses,  wiped  them,  held  them 
up  to  the  light  and  began  to  wipe  them  again. 

"  Ah,  you,  my  dear !  "  the  mother  exclaimed  lovingly, 
shaking  her  head.  She  was  sorry  for  him ;  at  the  same 
time  something  compelled  her  to  smile  a  warm,  motherly 
smile.     He  changed  his  pose,  took  the  pen  in  his  hand, 

422 


MOTHER 

and  said,  punctuating  the  rhythm  of  his  speed  with  waves 
of  his  hand: 

"  Family  life  always  diminishes  the  energy  of  a  revo- 
lutionist. Children  must  be  maintained  in  security,  and 
there's  the  need  to  work  a  great  deal  for  one's  bread. 
The  revolutionist  ought  without  cease  to  develop  every 
iota  of  his  energy;  he  must  deepen  and  broaden  it;  but 
this  demands  time.  He  must  always  be  at  the  head,  be- 
cause we — the  workingmen — are  called  by  the  logic  of 
history  to  destroy  the  old  world,  to  create  the  new  life; 
and  if  we  stop,  if  we  yield  to  exhaustion,  or  are  attracted 
by  the  possibility  of  a  little  immediate  conquest,  it's  bad 
— it's  almost  treachery  to  the  cause.  No  revolutionist 
can  adhere  closely  to  an  individual — walk  through  life 
side  by  side  with  another  individual — without  distort- 
ing his  faith ;  and  we  must  never  forget  that  our  aim  is 
not  little  conquests,  but  only  complete  victory !  " 

His  voice  became  firm,  his  face  paled,  and  his  eyes 
kindled  with  the  force  that  characterized  him.  The  bell 
sounded  again.  It  was  Liudmila.  She  wore  an  overcoat 
too  light  for  the  season,  her  cheeks  were  purple  with  the 
cold.  Removing  her  torn  overshoes,  she  said  in  a  vexed 
voice : 

"  The  date  of  the  trial  is  appointed — in  a  week !  " 

"  Really  ?  "  shouted  Nikolay  from  the  room. 

The  mother  quickly  walked  up  to  him,  not  under- 
standing whether  fright  or  joy  agitated  her.  Liudmila, 
keeping  step  with  her,  said,  with  irony  in  her  low  voice : 

"  Yes,  really !  The  assistant  prosecuting  attorney, 
Shostak,  just  now  brought  the  incriminating  acts.  In 
the  court  they  say,  quite  openly,  that  the  sentence  has 
already  been  fixed.  What  does  it  mean  ?  Do  the  authori- 
ties fear  that  the  judges  will  deal  too  mercifully  with 
the  enemies  of  the  government?    Having  so  long  and  so 

423 


MOTHER 

assiduously  kept  corrupting  their  servants,  is  the  govern- 
ment still  unassured  of  their  readiness  to  be  scoundrels  ?  " 

Liudmila  sat  on  the  sofa,  rubbing  her  lean  cheeks 
with  her  palms ;  her  dull  eyes  burned  contemptuous  scorn, 
and  her  voice  filled  with  growing  wrath. 

"  You  waste  your  powder  for  nothing,  Liudmila ! " 
Nikolay  tried  to  soothe  her.    "  They  don't  hear  you." 

*'  Some  day  Til  compel  them  to  hear  me !  " 

The  black  circles  under  her  eyes  trembled  and  threw 
an  ominous  shadow  on  her  face.    She  bit  her  lips. 

"  You  go  against  me — that's  your  right ;  I'm  your 
enemy.  But  in  defending  your  power  don't  corrupt  peo- 
ple; don't  compel  me  to  have  instinctive  contempt  for 
them ;  don't  dare  to  poison  my  soul  with  your  cynicism !  '* 

Nikolay  looked  at  her  through  his  glasses,  and  screw- 
ing up  his  eyes,  shook  his  head  sadly.  But  she  continued 
to  speak  as  if  those  whom  she  detested  stood  before  her. 
The  mother  listened  with  strained  attention,  understand- 
ing nothing,  and  instinctively  repeating  to  herself  one 
and  the  same  words,  "  The  trial — the  trial  will  come  off 
in  a  week !  " 

She  could  not  picture  to  herself  what  it  would  be 
like ;  how  the  judges  would  behave  toward  Pavel.  Her 
thoughts  muddled  her  brain,  covered  her  eyes  with  a 
gray  mist,  and  plunged  her  into  something  sticky,  viscid, 
chilling  and  paining  her  body.  The  feeling  grew,  entered 
her  blood,  took  possession  of  her  heart,  and  weighed 
it  down  heavily,  poisoning  in  it  all  that  was  alive  and 
bold. 

Thus,  in  a  cloud  of  perplexity  and  despondency  under 
the  load  of  painful  expectations,  she  lived  through  one 
day,  and  a  second  day ;  but  on  the  third  day  Sasha  ap- 
peared and  said  to  Nikolay : 

"  Everything  is  ready — to-day,  in  an  hour  I  " 
424 


MOTHER 

"  Everything  ready  ?    So  soon  ?  "    He  was  astonished. 

"  Why  shouldn't  everything  be  ready  ?  The  only 
thing  I  had  to  do  was  to  get  a  hiding  place  and  clothes 
for  Rybin.  All  the  rest  Godun  took  on  himself.  Rybin 
will  have  to  go  through  only  one  ward  of  the  city.  Vye- 
sovshchikov  will  meet  him  on  the  street,  all  disguised,  of 
course.  He'll  throw  an  overcoat  over  him,  give  him  a 
hat,  and  show  him  the  way.  Til  wait  for  him,  change 
his  clothes  and  lead  him  off." 

"  Not  bad !    And  who's  this  Godun?  " 

"  You've  seen  him !  You  gave  talks  to  the  locksmiths 
in  his  place." 

"  Oh,  I  remember !    A  droll  old  man." 

"  He's  a  soldier  who  served  his  time — a  roofer,  a  man 
of  little  education,  but  with  an  inexhaustible  fund  of 
hatred  for  every  kind  of  violence  and  for  all  men  of  vio- 
lence.   A  bit  of  a  philosopher !  " 

The  mother  listened  in  silence  to  her,  and  something 
indistinct  slowly  dawned  upon  her. 

"  Godun  wants  to  free  his  nephew  —  you  remember 
him  ?  You  liked  Yevchenko,  a  blacksmith,  quite  a  dude." 
Nikolay  nodded  his  head.  "  Godun  has  arranged  every- 
thing all  right.  But  I'm  beginning  to  doubt  his  success. 
The  passages  in  the  prison  are  used  by  all  the  inmates, 
and  I  think  when  the  prisoners  see  the  ladder  many  will 
want  to  run — "  She  closed  her  eyes  and  was  silent  for 
a  while.  The  mother  moved  nearer  to  her.  "  They'll 
hinder  one  another." 

They  all  three  stood  before  the  window,  the  mother 
behind  Nikolay  and  Sasha.  Their  rapid  conversation 
roused  in  her  a  still  stronger  sense  of  uneasiness  and 
anxiety. 

"  I'm  going  there,"  the  mother  said  suddenly. 

"Why?"  asked  Sasha. 

425 


MOTHER 

"  Don't  go,  darling !  Maybe  you'll  get  caught.  You 
mustn't !  "  Nikolay  advised. 

The  mother  looked  at  them  and  softly,  but  persist- 
ently, repeated:   "  No;  I'm  going!     I'm  going!  " 

They  quickly  exchanged  glances,  and  Sasha,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders,  said : 

"  Of  course — hope  is  tenacious !  " 

Turning  to  the  mother  she  took  her  by  the  hand, 
leaned  her  head  on  her  shoulder,  and  said  in  a  new, 
simple  voice,  near  to  the  heart  of  the  mother : 

"  But  I'll  tell  you  after  all,  mamma,  you're  vi^aiting  in 
vain — he  won't  try  to  escape  I  " 

'*  My  dear  darling !  "  exclaimed  the  mother,  pressing 
Sasha  to  her  tremulously.  "  Take  me ;  I  won't  interfere 
with  you ;  I  don't  believe  it  is  possible— to  escape !  " 

"  She'll  go,"  said  the  girl  simply  to  Nikolay. 

"  That's  your  afifair !  "  he  answered,  bowing  his  head. 

"  We  mustn't  be  together,  mamma.  You  go  to  the 
garden  in  the  lot.  From  there  you  can  see  the  wall  of 
the  prison.  But  suppose  they  ask  you  what  you  are 
doing  there  ?  " 

Rejoiced,  the  mother  answered  confidently: 

"  I'll  think  of  what  to  say." 

"  Don't  forget  that  the  overseers  of  the  prison  know 
you,"  said  Sasha ;  "  and  if  they  see  you  there " 

"  They  won't  see  me !  "  the  mother  laughed  softly. 

An  hour  later  she  was  in  the  lot  by  the  prison.  A 
sharp  wind  blew  about  her,  pulled  her  dress,  and  beat 
against  the  frozen  earth,  rocked  the  old  fence  of  the  gar- 
den past  which  the  woman  walked,  and  rattled  against 
the  low  wall  of  the  prison ;  it  flung  up  somebody's  shouts 
from  the  court,  scattered  them  in  the  air,  and  carried 
them  up  to  the  sky.  There  the  clouds  were  racing 
quickly,  little  rifts  opening  in  the  blue  height. 

426 


MOTHER 

Behind  the  mother  lay  the  city ;  in  front  the  cemetery ;  . 
to  the  right,  about  seventy  feet  from  her,  the  prison. 
Near  the  cemetery  a  soldier  was  leading  a  horse  by  a 
rein,  and  another  soldier  tramped  noisily  alongside  him, 
shouted,  whistled,  and  laughed.  There  was  no  one  els^ 
near  the  prison.  On  the  impulse  of  the  moment  the 
mother  walked  straight  up  to  them.  As  she  came  near 
she  shouted: 

"  Soldiers !  didn't  you  see  a  goat  anywhere  around 
here?" 

One  of  them  answered : 

"  No." 

She  walked  slowly  past  them,  toward  the  fence  of  the 
cemetery,  looking  slantwise  to  the  right  and  the  back. 
Suddenly  she  felt  her  feet  tremble  and  grow  heavy,  as  if 
frozen  to  the  ground.  From  the  corner  of  the  prison  a 
man  came  along,  walking  quickly,  like  a  lamplighter.  He 
was  a  stooping  man,  with  a  little  ladder  on  his  shoulder. 
The  mother,  blinking  in  fright,  quickly  glanced  at  the 
soldiers ;  they  were  stamping  their  feet  on  one  spot,  and 
the  horse  was  running  around  them.  She  looked  at  the 
ladder — he  had  already  placed  it  against  the  wall  and 
was  climbing  up  without  haste.  He  waved  his  hand  in 
the  courtyard,  quickly  let  himself  down,  and  disappeared 
around  the  corner.  That  very  second  the  black  head  of 
Mikhail  appeared  on  the  wall,  followed  by  his  entire  body. 
Another  head,  with  a  shaggy  hat,  emerged  alongside  of 
his.  Two  black  lumps  rolled  to  the  ground;  one  disap- 
peared around  the  corner;  Mikhail  straightened  himself 
up  and  looked  about. 

"  Run,  run !  "  whispered  the  mother,  treading  impa- 
tiently.    Her  ears  were  humming.     Loud  shouts   were 
wafted  to  her.    There  on  the  wall  appeared  a  third  head. 
She  clasped  her  hands  in  faintness.    A  light-haired  head, 
28  427 


MOTHER 

'Without  a  beard,  shook  as  if  it  wanted  to  tear  itself  away, 
but  it  suddenly  disappeared  behind  the  wall.  The  shouts 
came  louder  and  louder,  more  and  more  boisterous.  The 
wind  scattered  the  thin  trills  of  the  whistles  through  the 
air.  Mikhail  walked  along  the  wall — there !  he  was  al- 
ready beyond  it,  and  traversed  the  open  space  between  the 
prison  and  the  houses  of  the  city.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if 
he  were  walking  very,  very  slowly,  that  he  raised  his 
head  to  no  purpose.  *'  Everyone  who  sees  his  face  will 
remember  it  forever,"  and  she  \^diispered,  "  Faster ! 
faster ! "  Behind  the  wall  of  the  prison  something 
slammed,  the  thin  sound  of  broken  glass  was  heard.  One 
of  the  soldiers,  planting  his  feet  firmly  on  the  ground, 
drew  the  horse  to  him,  and  the  horse  jumped.  The  other 
one,  his  fist  at  his  mouth,  shouted  something  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  prison,  and  as  he  shouted  he  turned  his  head 
sidewise,  with  his  ear  cocked. 

All  attention,  the  mother  turned  her  head  in  all  direc- 
tions, her  eyes  seeing  everything,  believing  nothing.  This 
thing  which  she  had  pictured  as  terrible  and  intricate  was 
accomplished  with  extreme  simplicity  and  rapidity,  and 
the  simpleness  of  the  happenings  stupefied  her.  Rybin 
was  no  longer  to  be  seen — a  tall  man  in  a  thin  overcoat 
was  walking  there  —  a  girl  was  running  along.  Three 
wardens  jumped  out  from  a  corner  of  the  prison;  they 
ran  side  by  side,  stretching  out  their  right  hands.  One 
of  the  soldiers  rushed  in  front  of  them ;  the  other  ran 
around  the  horse,  unsuccessfully  trying  to  vault  on  the 
refractory  animal,  which  kept  jumping  about.  The 
whistles  incessantly  cut  the  air,  their  alarming,  desperate 
shrieks  aroused  a  consciousness  of  danger  in  the  woman. 
Trembling,  she  walked  along  the  fence  of  the  cemetery, 
following  the  wardens ;  but  they  and  the  soldiers  ran 
around  the  other  corner  of  the  prison  and  disappeared. 

428 


MOTHER 

They  were  followed  at  a  run  by  the  assistant  overseer  of 
the  prison,  whom  she  knew;  his  coat  was  unbuttoned. 
From  somewhere  policejnen  appeared,  and  people  came 
running. 

The  wind  whistled,  leaped  about  as  if  rejoicing,  and 
carried  the  broken,  confused  shouts  to  the  mother's  ears. 

"  It  stands  here  all  the  time." 

"The  ladder?" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  then  ?  The  devil  take 
you !  " 

"  Arrest  the  soldiers  !  " 

"Policeman!" 

Whistles  again.  This  hubbub  delighted  her  and  she 
strode  on  more  boldly,  thinking,  "  So,  it's  possible — he 
could  have  done  it !  " 

But  now  pain  for  her  son  no  longer  entered  her 
heart  without  pride  in  him  also.  And  only  fear  for  him 
weighed  and  oppressed  her  to  stupefaction  as  before. 

From  the  corner  of  the  fence  opposite  her  a  constable 
with  a  black,  curly  beard,  and  two  policemen  emerged. 

"  Stop !  "  shouted  the  constable,  breathing  heavily. 
"  Did  you  see — a  man — with  a  beard — didn't  he  run  by 
here?" 

She  pointed  to  the  garden  and  answered  calmly : 

"  He  went  that  way !  " 

"  Yegorov,  run !     Whistle !    Is  it  long  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes — I  should  say — about  a  minute !  " 

But  the  whistle  drowned  her  voice.  The  constable, 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  precipitated  himself  in  a 
gallop  along  the  hillocky  ground,  waving  his  hands  in 
the  direction  of  the  garden.  After  him,  with  bent  head, 
and  whistling,  the  policemen  darted  off. 

The  mother  nodded  her  head  after  them,  and,  satisfied 
with  herself,  went  home.     When  she  walked  out  of  the 

429 


MOTHER 

field  into  the  street  a  cab  crossed  her  way.  Raising  her 
head  she  saw  in  the  vehicle  a  young  man  with  light  mus- 
tache and  a  pale,  worn  face.  He,  too,  regarded  her.  He 
sat  slantwise.  It  must  have  been  due  to  his  position  that 
his  right  shoulder  was  higher  than  his  left. 

At  home  Nikolay  met  her  joyously. 

"Alive?    How  did  it  go?" 

"  It  seems  everything's  been  successful !  " 

And  slowly  trying  to  reinstate  all  the  details  in  her 
memory,  she  began  to  tell  of  the  escape.  Nikolay,  too, 
was  amazed  at  the  success. 

"  You  see,  we're  lucky !  "  said  Nikolay,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  But  how  frightened  I  was  on  your  account 
only  God  knows.  You  know  what,  Nilovna,  take  my 
friendly  advice :  don't  be  afraid  of  the  trial.  The  sooner 
it's  over  and  done  with  the  sooner  Pavel  will  be  free. 
Beheve  me.  I've  already  written  to  my  sister  to  try  to 
think  what  can  be  done  for  Pavel.  Maybe  he'll  even 
escape  on  the  road.  And  the  trial  is  approximately  like 
this."  He  began  to  describe  to  her  the  session  of  the 
court.  She  listened,  and  understood  that  he  was  afraid 
of  something — that  he  wanted  to  inspirit  her. 

"  Maybe  you  think  I'll  say  something  to  the  judges  ?  " 
she  suddenly  inquired.  "  That  I'll  beg  them  for  some- 
thing?" 

He  jumped  up,  waved  his  hands  at  her,  and  said  in 
an  offended  tone : 

"What  are  you  talking  about?  You're  insulting 
me!" 

"  Excuse  me,  please ;  excuse  me !  I  really  am  afraid 
— of  what  I  don't  know." 

She  was  silent,  letting  her  eyes  wander  about  the 
room. 

"  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  they'll  insult  Pasha — 

430 


MOTHER 

scoff  at  him.  '  Ah,  you  peasant ! '  they'll  say.  '  You  son 
of  a  peasant !     What's   this  mess  you've  cooked  up  ?  ' 

And  Pasha,  proud  as  he  is,  he'll  answer  them  so  ! 

Or  Audrey  will  laugh  at  them  —  and  all  the  comrades 
there  are  hot-headed  and  honest.  So  I  can't  help  think- 
ing that  something  will  suddenly  happen.  One  of  them 
will  lose  his  patience,  the  others  will  support  him,  and  the 
sentence  will  be  so  severe — you'll  never  see  them  again." 

Nikolay  was  silent,  pulling  his  beard  glumly  as  the 
mother  continued: 

"  It's  impossible  to  drive  this  thought  from  my  head. 
The  trial  is  terrible  to  me.  When  they'll  begin  to  take 
everything  apart  and  weigh  it — it's  awful!  It's  not  the 
sentence  that's  terrible,  but  the  trial — I  can't  express  it." 
She  felt  that  Nikolay  didn't  understand  her  fear ;  and  his 
inability  to  comprehend  kept  her  from  further  analysis 
of  her  timidities,  which,  however,  only  increased  and 
broadened  during  the  three  following  days.  Finally,  on 
the  day  of  the  trial,  she  carried  into  the  hall  of  the  session 
a  heavy  dark  load  that  bent  her  back  and  neck. 

In  the  street,  acquaintances  from  the  suburbs  had 
greeted  her.  She  had  bowed  in  silence,  rapidly  making 
her  way  through  the  dense  crowd  in  the  corridor  of  the 
courthouse.  In  the  hall  she  was  met  by  relatives  of  the 
defendants,  who  also  spoke  to  her  in  undertones.  All  the 
words  seemed  needless ;  she  didn't  understand  them.  Yet 
all  the  people  were  sullen,  filled  with  the  same  mourn- 
ful feeling  which  infected  the  mother  and  weighed  her 
down. 

"  Let's  sit  next  to  each  other,"  suggested  Sizov,  going 
to  a  bench. 

She  sat  down  obediently,  settled  her  dress,  and  looked 
around.  Green  and  crimson  specks,  with  thin  yellow 
threads  between,  slowly  swam  before  her  eyes. 

431 


MOTHER 

"  Your  son  has  ruined  our  Vasya,"  a  woman  sitting 
beside  her  said  quietly. 

"  You  keep  still,  Natalya !  "  Sizov  chided  her  angrily. 

Xilovna  looked  at  the  woman ;  it  was  the  mother  of 
Samoylov.  Farther  along  sat  her  husband — bald-headed, 
bony-faced,  dapper,  with  a  large,  bushy,  reddish  beard 
which  trembled  as  he  sat  looking  in  front  of  himself,  his 
eyes  screwed  up. 

A  dull,  immobile  light  entered  through  the  high  win- 
dows of  the  hall,  outside  of  which  snow  glided  and  fell 
lingeringly  on  the  ground.  Between  the  windows  hung  a 
large  portrait  of  the  Czar  in  a  massive  frame  of  glaring 
gilt.  Straight,  austere  folds  of  the  heavy  crimson  win- 
dow drapery  dropped  over  either  side  of  it.  Before  the 
portrait,  across  almost  the  entire  breadth  of  the  hall, 
stretched  the  table  covered  with  green  cloth.  To  the 
right  of  the  wall,  behind  the  grill,  stood  two  wooden 
benches ;  to  the  left  two  rows  of  crimson  armchairs. 
Attendants  with  green  collars  and  yellow  buttons  on 
their  abdomens  ran  noiselessly  about  the  hall.  A  soft 
whisper  hummed  in  the  turbid  atmosphere,  and  the  odor 
was  a  composite  of  many  odors  as  in  a  drug  shop.  All 
this  —  the  colors,  the  glitter,  the  sounds  and  odors  — 
pressed  on  the  eyes  and  invaded  the  breast  with  each 
inhalation.  It  forced  out  live  sensations,  and  filled  the 
desolate  heart  with  motionless,  dismal  awe. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  people  said  something  aloud. 
The  mother  trembled.  All  arose ;  she,  too,  rose,  seizing 
Sizov's  hand. 

In  the  left  corner  of  the  hall  a  high  door  opened  and 
an  old  man  emerged,  swinging  to  and  fro.  On  his  gray 
little  face  shook  white,  sparse  whiskers ;  he  wore  eye- 
glasses ;  the  upper  lip,  which  was  shaven,  sank  into  his 
mouth  as  by  suction;  his  sharp  jawbones  and  his  chin 

432 


MOTHER 

were  supported  by  the  high  collar  of  his  uniform ;  appar- 
ently there  was  no  neck  under  the  collar.  He  was  sup- 
ported under  the  arm  from  behind  by  a  tall  young  man 
with  a  porcelain  face,  red  and  round.  Following  him 
three  more  men  in  uniforms  embroidered  in  gold,  and 
three  garbed  in  civilian  wear,  moved  in  slowly.  They 
stirred  about  the  table  for  a  long  time  and  finally  took 
seats  in  the  armchairs.  When  they  had  sat  down,  one  of 
them  in  unbuttoned  uniform,  with  a  sleepy,  clean-shaven 
face,  began  to  say  something  to  the  little  old  man,  mov- 
ing his  puffy  lips  heavily  and  soundlessly.  The  old  man 
listened,  sitting  strangely  erect  and  immobile.  Behind 
the  glasses  of  his  pince-nez  the  mother  saw  two  little  col- 
orless specks. 

At  the  end  of  the  table,  at  the  desk,  stood  a  tall,  bald 
man,  who  coughed  and  shoved  papers  about. 

The  little  old  man  swung  forward  and  began  to  speak. 
He  pronounced  clearly  the  first  words,  but  what  followed 
seemed  to  creep  without  sound  from  his  thin,  gray  lips. 

"  I  open " 

"  See !  "  whispered  Sizov,  nudging  the  mother  softly 
and  arising. 

In  the  wall  behind  the  grill  the  door  opened,  a  soldier 
came  out  with  a  bared  saber  on  his  shoulder ;  behind  him 
appeared  Pavel,  Audrey,  Fedya  Mazin,  the  two  Gusevs, 
Samoylov,  Bukin,  Somov,  and  five  more  young  men 
whose  names  were  unknown  to  the  mother.  Pavel  smiled 
kindly ;  Audrey  also,  showing  his  teeth  as  he  nodded  to 
her.  The  hall,  as  it  were,  became  lighter  and  simpler 
from  their  smile ;  the  strained,  unnatural  silence  was  en- 
livened by  their  faces  and  movements.  The  greasy  glitter 
of  gold  on  the  uniforms  dimmed  and  softened.  A  waft 
of  bold  assurance,  the  breath  of  living  power,  reached 
the  mother's  heart  and  roused  it.    On  the  benches  behind 

433 


MOTHER 

her,  where  up  to  that  time  the  people  had  been  wait- 
ing in  crushed  silence,  a  responsive,  subdued  hum  was 
audible. 

'*  They're  not  trembling!"  she  heard  Sizov  whisper; 
and  at  her  right  side  Samoylov's  mother  burst  into  soft 
sobs. 

'^  Silence !  "  came  a  stern  shout. 

"  I  warn  you  beforehand,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  shall 
have  to " 


CHAPTER   XV 

AVEL  and  Andrey  sat  side  by  side;  along 
with  them  on  the  first  bench  were  Mazin, 
Samoylov,  and  the  Gusevs.  Andrey  had 
shaved  his  beard,  but  his  mustache  had 
grown  and  hung  down,  and  gave  his  round 
head  the  appearance  of  a  seacow  or  walrus.  Something 
new  lay  on  his  face;  something  sharp  and  biting  in  the 
folds  about  his  mouth ;  something  black  in  his  eyes.  On 
Mazin's  upper  lip  two  black  streaks  were  limned,  his  face 
was  fuller.  Samoylov  was  just  as  curly-haired  as  be- 
fore; and  Ivan  Gusev  smiled  just  as  broadly. 

"  Ah,  Fedka,  Fedka !  "  whispered  Sizov,  drooping  his 
head. 

The  mother  felt  she  could  breathe  more  freely.  She 
heard  the  indistinct  questions  of  the  old  man,  which  he 
put  without  looking  at  the  prisoners ;  and  his  head  rested 
motionless  on  the  collar  of  his  uniform.  She  heard  the 
calm,  brief  answers  of  her  son.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
the  oldest  judge  and  his  associates  could  be  neither  evil 
nor  cruel  people.  Looking  carefully  at  their  faces  she 
tried  to  guess  something,  softly  listening  to  the  growth 
of  a  new  hope  in  her  breast. 

The  porcelain- faced  man  read  a  paper  indifferently; 
his  even  voice  filled  the  hall  with  weariness,  and  the  peo- 
ple, enfolded  by  it,  sat  motionless  as  if  benumbed.  Four 
lawyers  softly  but  animatedly  conversed  with  the  pris- 

435 


MOTHER 

oners.  They  all  moved  powerfully,  briskly,  and  called 
to  mind  large  blackbirds. 

On  one  side  of  the  old  man  a  judge  with  small, 
bleared  eyes  filled  the  armchair  with  his  fat,  bloated 
body.  On  the  other  side  sat  a  stooping  man  with  reddish 
mustache  on  his  pale  face.  His  head  was  wearily  thrown 
on  the  back  of  the  chair,  his  eyes,  half-closed,  he  seemed 
to  be  reflecting  over  something.  The  face  of  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  was  also  worn,  bored,  and  unexpectant. 
Behind  the  judge  sat  the  mayor  of  the  city,  a  portly  man, 
who  meditatively  stroked  his  cheek;  the  marshal  of  the 
nobility,  a  gray-haired,  large-bearded,  ruddy-faced  man, 
with  large,  kind  eyes ;  and  the  district  elder,  who  wore  a 
sleeveless  peasant  overcoat,  and  possessed  a  huge  belly 
which  apparently  embarrassed  him ;  he  endeavored  to 
cover  it  with  the  folds  of  his  overcoat,  but  it  always  slid 
down  and  showed  again. 

"  There  are  no  criminals  here  and  no  judges,"  Pavel's 
vigorous  voice  was  heard.  "  There  are  only  captives 
here,  and  conquerors !  " 

Silence  fell.  For  a  few  seconds  the  mother's  ears 
heard  only  the  thin,  hasty  scratch  of  the  pen  on  the  paper 
and  the  beating  of  her  own  heart. 

The  oldest  judge  also  seemed  to  be  listening  to 
something  from  afar.  His  associates  stirred.  Then 
he  said : 

"  Hm !  yes — Audrey  Nakhodka,  do  you  admit " 

Somebody   whispered,   "  Rise !  " 

Audrey  slowly  rose,  straightened  himself,  and  pulling 
his  mustache  looked  at  the  old  man  from  the  corners  of 
his  eyes. 

"Yes!  To  what  can  I  confess  myself  guilty?"  said 
the  Little  Russian  in  his  slow,  surging  voice,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.     '*  I  did  not  murder  nor  steal ;  I   simply 

436 


MOTHER 

am  not  in  agreement  with  an  order  of  life  in  which  people 
are  compelled  to  rob  and  kill  one  another." 

"  Answer  briefly — yes  or  no  ?  "  the  old  man  said 
with  an  effort,  but  distinctly. 

On  the  benches  back  of  her  the  mother  felt  there 
was  animation;  the  people  began  to  whisper  to  one  an- 
other about  something  and  stirred,  sighing  as  if  freeing 
themselves  from  the  cobweb  spun  about  them  by  the  gray 
words  of  the  porcelain-faced  man. 

"  Do  you  hear  how  they  speak?  "  whispered  Sizov. 

"  Yes." 

"  Fedor  Mazin,  answer !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to !  "  said  Fedya  clearly,  jumping  to 
his  feet.  His  face  reddened  with  excitation,  his  eyes 
sparkled.  For  some  reason  he  hid  his  hands  behind  his 
back. 

Sizov  groaned  softly,  and  the  mother  opened  her  eyes 
wide  in  astonishment. 

"  I  declined  a  defense — Fm  not  going  to  say  anything 
— I  don't  regard  your  court  as  legal!  Who  are  you? 
Did  the  people  give  you  the  right  to  judge  us?  No,  they 
did  not!  I  don't  know  you."  He  sat  down  and  con- 
cealed his  heated  face  behind  Andrey's  shoulders. 

The  fat  judge  inclined  his  head  to  the  old  judge  and 
whispered  something.  The  old  judge,  pale-faced,  raised 
his  eyelids  and  slanted  his  eyes  at  the  prisoners,  then 
extended  his  hand  on  the  table,  and  wrote  something  in 
pencil  on  a  piece  of  paper  lying  before  him.  The  district 
elder  swung  his  head,  carefully  shifting  his  feet,  rested 
his  abdomen  on  his  knees,  and  his  hands  on  his  abdo- 
men. Without  moving  his  head  the  old  judge  turned 
his  body  to  the  red-mustached  judge,  and  began  to  speak 
to  him  quickly.  The  red-mustached  judge  inclined  his 
head  to  listen.     The  marshal  of  the  nobility  conversed 

437 


MOTHER 

with  the  prosecuting  attorney ;  the  mayor  of  the  city  lis- 
tened and  smiled,  rubbing  his  cheek.  Again  the  dull 
speech  of  the  old  judge  was  heard.  All  four  lawyers 
listened  attentively.  The  prisoners  exchanged  whispers 
with  one  another,  and  Fedya,  smiling  in  confusion,  hid 
his  face. 

"  How  he  cut  them  off !  Straight,  downright,  better 
than  all !  "  Sizov  whispered  in  amazement  in  the  ear  of 
the  mother.     "  Ah,  you  little  boy !  " 

The  mother  smiled  in  perplexity.  The  proceedings 
seemed  to  be  nothing  but  the  necessary  preliminary  to 
something  terrible,  which  would  appear  and  at  once  stifle 
everybody  with  its  cold  horror.  But  the  calm  words  of 
Pavel  and  Audrey  had  sounded  so  fearless  and  firm,  as 
if  uttered  in  the  little  house  of  the  suburb,  and  not  in 
the  presence  of  the  court.  Fedya's  hot,  youthful  sally 
amused  her;  something  bold  and  fresh  grew  up  in  the 
hall,  and  she  guessed  from  the  movement  of  the  peo- 
ple back  of  her  that  she  was  not  the  only  one  who 
felt  this. 

"  Your  opinion,"  said  the  old  judge. 

The  bald-headed  prosecuting  attorney  arose,  and, 
steadying  himself  on  the  desk  with  one  hand,  began  to 
speak  rapidly,  quoting  figures.  In  his  voice  nothing  ter- 
rible was  heard. 

At  the  same  time,  however,  a  sudden  dry,  shooting 
attack  disturbed  the  heart  of  the  mother.  It  was  an 
uneasy  suspicion  of  something  hostile  to  her,  which  did 
not  threaten,  did  not  shout,  but  unfolded  itself  unseen, 
soundless,  intangible.  It  swung  lazily  and  dully  about 
the  judges,  as  if  enveloping  them  with  an  impervious 
cloud,  through  which  nothing  from  the  outside  could 
reach  them.  She  looked  at  them.  They  were  incompre- 
hensible to  her.     They  were  not  angry  at  Pavel  or  at 

438 


MOTHER 

Fedya ;  they  did  not  shout  at  the  young  men,  as  she  had 
expected;  they  did  not  abuse  them  in  words,  but  put  all 
their  questions  reluctantly,  with  the  air  of  "  What's  the 
use  ?  ".  It  cost  them  an  effort  to  hear  the  answers  to  the 
end.  Apparently  they  lacked  interest  because  they  knew 
everything  beforehand. 

There  before  her  stood  the  gendarme,  and  spoke  in  a 
bass  voice: 

*'  Pavel  Vlasov  was  named  as  the  ringleader." 

"And  Nakhodka?"  asked  the  fat  judge  in  his  lazy 
undertone. 

"  He,  too." 

"  May  I " 

The  old  judge  asked  a  question  of  somebody: 

"  You  have  nothing  ?  " 

All  the  judges  seemed  to  the  mother  to  be  worn  out 
and  ill.  A  sickened  weariness  marked  their  poses  and 
voices,  a  sickened  weariness  and  a  bored,  gray  ennui. 
It  was  an  evident  nuisance  to  them,  all  this — the  uni- 
forms, the  hall,  the  gendarmes,  the  lawyers,  the  obligation 
to  sit  in  armchairs,  and  to  put  questions  concerning  things 
perforce  already  known  to  them.  The  mother  in  general 
was  but  little  acquainted  with  the  masters;  she  had 
scarcely  ever  seen  them ;  and  now  she  regarded  the  faces 
of  the  judges  as  something  altogether  new  and  incom- 
prehensible, deserving  pity,  however,  rather  than  inspir- 
ing horror. 

The  familiar,  yellow-faced  officer  stood  before  them, 
and  told  about  Pavel  and  Andrey,  stretching  the  words 
with  an  air  of  importance.  The  mother  involuntarily 
laughed,  and  thought :  "  You  don't  know  much,  my  Httle 
father." 

And  now,  as  she  looked  at  the  people  behind  the  grill, 
she  ceased  to  feel  dread  for  them;  they  did  not  evoke 

439 


MOTHER 

alarm,  pity  was  not  for  them;  they  one  and  all  called 
forth  in  her  only  admiration  and  love,  which  warmly 
embraced  her  heart;  the  admiration  was  calm,  the  love 
joyously  distinct.  There  they  sat  to  one  side,  by  the  wall, 
young,  sturdy,  scarcely  taking  any  part  in  the  monoto- 
nous talk  of  the  witnesses  and  judges,  or  in  the  dis- 
putes of  the  lawyers  with  the  prosecuting  attorney.  They 
behaved  as  if  the  talk  did  not  concern  them  in  the  least. 
Sometimes  somebody  would  laugh  contemptuously,  and 
say  something  to  the  comrades,  across  whose  faces,  then, 
a  sarcastic  smile  would  also  quickly  pass.  Audrey  and 
Pevel  conversed  almost  the  entire  time  with  one  of  their 
lawyers,  whom  the  mother  had  seen  the  day  before  at 
Nikolay's,  and  had  heard  Nikolay  address  as  comrade. 
Mazin,  brisker  and  more  animated  than  the  others,  lis- 
tened to  the  conversation.  Now  and  then  Samoylov  said 
something  to  Ivan  Gusev;  and  the  mother  noticed  that 
each  time  Ivan  gave  a  slight  elbow  nudge  to  a  comrade, 
he  could  scarcely  restrain  a  laugh ;  his  face  would  grow 
red,  his  cheeks  would  puff  up,  and  he  would  have  to  in- 
cline his  head.  He  had  already  sniffed  a  couple  of  times, 
and  for  several  minutes  afterward  sat  with  blown  cheeks 
trying  to  be  serious.  Thus,  in  each  comrade  his  youth 
played  and  sparkled  after  his  fashion,  lightly  bursting 
the  restraint  he  endeavored  to  put  upon  its  lively  effer- 
vescence. She  looked,  compared,  and  reflected.  She  was 
unable  to  understand  or  express  in  words  her  uneasy 
feeling  of  hostility. 

Sizov  touched  her  lightly  with  his  elbow ;  she  turned 
to  him,  and  found  a  look  of  contentment  and  slight  pre- 
occupation on  his  face. 

''  Just  see  how  they've  intrenched  themselves  in  their 
defiance!  Fine  stuff  in  'em!  Eh?  Barons,  eh?  Well> 
and  yet  they're  going  to  be  sentenced !  " 

440 


MOTHER 

The  mother  listened,  unconsciously  repeating  to  her- 
self: 

"  Who  will  pass  the  sentence  ?  Whom  will  they  sen- 
tence ?  " 

The  witnesses  spoke  quickly,  in  their  colorless  voices, 
the  judges  reluctantly  and  listlessly.  Their  bloodless, 
worn-out  faces  stared  into  space  unconcernedly.  They 
did  not  expect  to  see  or  hear  anything  new.  At  times 
the  fat  judge  yawned,  covering  his  smile  with  his  puffy 
hand,  while  the  red-mustached  judge  grew  still  paler,  and 
sometimes  raised  his  hand  to  press  his  finger  tightly  on 
the  bone  of  his  temple,  as  he  looked  up  to  the  ceiling  with 
sorrowful,  widened  eyes.  The  prosecuting  attorney  in- 
frequently scribbled  on  his  paper,  and  then  resumed  his 
soundless  conversation  with  the  marshal  of  the  nobility, 
who  stroked  his  gray  beard,  rolled  his  large,  beautiful 
eyes,  and  smiled,  nodding  his  head  with  importance.  The 
city  mayor  sat  with  crossed  legs,  and  beat  a  noiseless 
tattoo  on  his  knee,  giving  the  play  of  his  fingers  con- 
centrated attention.  The  only  one  who  listened  to  the 
monotonous  murmur  of  the  voices  seemed  to  be  the  dis- 
trict elder,  who  sat  with  inclined  head,  supporting  his 
abdomen  on  his  knees  and  solicitously  holding  it  up 
with  his  hands.  The  old  judge,  deep  in  his  armchair, 
stuck  there  immovably.  The  proceedings  continued  to 
drag  on  in  this  way  for  a  long,  long  time;  and  ennui 
again  numbed  the  people  with  its  heavy,  sticky  em- 
brace. 

The  mother  saw  that  this  large  hall  was  not  yet  per- 
vaded by  that  cold,  threatening  justice  which  sternly 
uncovers  the  soul,  examines  it,  and  seeing  everything 
estimates  its  value  with  incorruptible  eyes,  weighing  it 
rigorously  with  honest  hands.  Here  was  nothing  to 
frighten  her  by  its  power  or  majesty. 

441 


MOTHER 

"  I  declare — "  said  the  old  judge  clearly,  and  arose 
as  he  crushed  the  following  words  with  his  thin  lips. 

The  noise  of  sighs  and  low  exclamations,  of  coughing 
and  scraping  of  feet,  filled  the  hall  as  the  court  retired 
for  a  recess.  The  prisoners  were  led  away.  As  they 
walked  out,  they  nodded  their  heads  to  their  relatives 
and  familiars  with  a  smile,  and  Ivan  Gusev  shouted  to 
somebody  in  a  modulated  voice : 

"  Don't  lose  courage,  Yegor." 

The  mother  and  Sizov  walked  out  into  the  cor- 
ridor. 

'*  Will  you  go  to  the  tavern  with  me  to  take  some 
tea  ?  "  the  old  man  asked  her  solicitously.  "  We  have 
an  hour  and  a  half's  time." 

**  I  don't  want  to." 

"  Well,  then  I  won't  go,  either.  No,  say !  What  fel- 
lows those  are!  They  act  as  if  they  were  the  only  real 
people,  and  the  rest  nothing  at  all.  They'll  all  go  scot- 
free,  I'm  sure.    Look  at  Fedka,  eh?" 

Samoylov's  father  came  up  to  them  holding  his  hat 
in  his  hand.    He  smiled  sullenly  and  said: 

"  My  Vasily !  He  declined  a  defense,  and  doesn't 
want  to  palaver.  He  was  the  first  to  have  the  idea. 
Yours,  Pelagueya,  stood  for  lawyers ;  and  mine  said :  '  I 
don't  want  one.'  And  four  declined  after  him.  Hm, 
ye-es." 

At  his  side  stood  his  wife.  She  blinked  frequently^ 
and  wiped  her  nose  with  the  end  of  her  handkerchief. 
Samoylov  took  his  beard  in  his  hand,  and  continued  look- 
ing at  the  floor. 

"  Now,  this  is  the  queer  thing  about  it :  you  look  at 
them,  those  devils,  and  you  think  they  got  up  all  this  at 
random — they're  ruining  themselves  for  nothing.  And 
suddenly  you  begin  to  think :  *  And  maybe  they're  right  1 ' 

442 


MOTHER 

You  remember  that  in  the  factory  more  like  them  keep 
on  coming,  keep  on  coming.  They  always  get  caught; 
but  they're  not  destroyed,  no  more  than  common  fish  in 
the  river  get  destroyed.  No.  And  again  you  think,  *  And 
maybe  power  is  with  them,  too.'  " 

**  It's  hard  for  us,  Stepan  Petrov,  to  understand  this 
affair,"  said  Sizov. 

"  It's  hard,  yes,"  agreed  Samoylov. 

His  wife  noisily  drawing  in  air  through  her  nose 
remarked : 

"  They're  all  strong,  those  imps !  "  With  an  unre- 
strained smile  on  her  broad,  wizened  face,  she  continued : 
"  You,  Nilovna,  don't  be  angry  with  me  because  I  just 
now  slapped  you,  when  I  said  that  your  son  is  to  blame. 
A  dog  can  tell  who's  the  more  to  blame,  to  tell  you  the 
truth.  Look  at  the  gendarmes  and  the  spies,  what  they 
said  about  our  Vasily!  He  has  shown  what  he  can  do 
too!" 

She  apparently  was  proud  of  her  son,  perhaps  even 
without  understanding  her  feeling;  but  the  mother  did 
understand  her  feeling,  and  answered  with  a  kind  smile 
and  quiet  words : 

"  A  young  heart  is  always  nearer  to  the  truth." 

People  rambled  about  the  corridor,  gathered  into 
groups,  speaking  excitedly  and  thoughtfully  in  hollow 
voices.  Scarcely  anybody  stood  alone;  all  faces  bore 
evidence  of  a  desire  to  speak,  to  ask,  to  listen.  In  the 
narrow  white  passageway  the  people  coiled  about  in  sinu- 
ous curves,  like  dust  carried  in  circles  before  a  powerful 
wind.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  seeking  something  hard 
and  firm  to  stand  upon. 

The  older  brother  of  Bukin,  a  tall,  red-faced  fellow, 
waved  his  hands  and  turned  about  rapidly  in  all  direc- 
tions. 

29  443 


MOTHER 

"  The  district  elder  Klepanov  has  no  place  in  this  case," 
he  declared  aloud. 

"  Keep  still,  Konstantin !  "  his  father,  a  little  old  man, 
tried  to  dissuade  him,  and  looked  around  cautiously. 

"No;  I'm  going  to  speak  out!  There's  a  rumor 
afloat  about  him  that  last  year  he  killed  a  clerk  of  his  on 
account  of  the  clerk's  wife.  What  kind  of  a  judge  is  he? 
permit  me  to  ask.  He  lives  with  the  wife  of  his  clerk — 
what  have  you  got  to  say  to  that?  Besides,  he's  a  well- 
known  thief !  " 

*'  Oh,  my  little  father— Konstantin !  " 

*'  True !  "  said  Samoylov.  "  True,  the  court  is  not  a 
very  just  one." 

Bukin  heard  his  voice  and  quickly  walked  up  to  him, 
drawing  the  whole  crowd  after  him.  Red  with  excite- 
ment, he  waved  his  hands  and  said : 

"  For  thievery,  for  murder,  jurymen  do  the  trying. 
They're  common  people,  peasants,  merchants,  if  you 
please ;  but  for  going  against  the  authorities  you're  tried 
by  the  authorities.     How's  that  ?  " 

"  Konstantin !  Why  are  they  against  the  authorities  ? 
Ah,  you!    They " 

"No,  wait!  Fedor  Mazin  said  the  truth,  li  you 
insult  me,  and  I  land  you  one  on  your  jaw,  and  you  try 
me  for  it,  of  course  I'm  going  to  turn  out  guilty.  But 
the  first  offender — who  was  it?    You?    Of  course,  you !  " 

The  watchman,  a  gray  man  with  a  hooked  nose  and 
medals  on  his  chest,  pushed  the  crowd  apart,  and  said  to 
Bukin,  shaking  his  finger  at  him : 

"  Hey  !  don't  shout !  Don't  you  know  where  you  are  ? 
Do  you  think  this  is  a  saloon?  " 

"  Permit  me,  my  cavalier,  I  know  where  I  am. 
Listen!  If  I  strike  you  and  you  me,  and  I  go  and  try 
you,  what  would  you  think  ?  " 

444 


MOTHER 

"  And  I'll  order  you  out,"  said  the  watchman  sternly. 

"Where  to?    What  for?" 

"  Into  the  street,  so  that  you  shan't  bawl." 

"  The  chief  thing  for  them  is  that  people  should  keep 
their  mouths  shut." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ?  "  the  old  man  bawled. 
Bukin  threw  out  his  hands,  and  again  measuring  the 
public  with  his  eyes,  began  to  speak  in  a  lower  voice : 

"  And  again — why  are  the  people  not  permitted  to  be 
at  the  trial,  but  only  the  relatives?  If  you  judge  right- 
eously, then  judge  in  front  of  everybody.  What  is  there 
to  be  afraid  of?  " 

Samoylov  repeated,  but  this  time  In  a  louder  tone : 

*'  The  trial  is  not  altogether  just,  that's  true." 

The  mother  wanted  to  say  to  him  that  she  had  heard 
from  Nikolay  of  the  dishonesty  of  the  court;  but  she 
had  not  wholly  comprehended  Nikolay,  and  had  forgot- 
ten some  of  his  words.  While  trying  to  recall  them  she 
moved  aside  from  the  people,  and  noticed  that  somebody 
was  looking  at  her — a  young  man  with  a  light  mustache. 
He  held  his  right  hand  in  the  pocket  of  his  trousers, 
which  made  his  left  shoulder  seem  lower  than  the  right, 
and  this  peculiarity  of  his  figure  seemed  familiar  to  the 
mother.  But  he  turned  from  her,  and  she  again  lost  her- 
self in  the  endeavor  to  recollect,  and  forgot  about  him 
immediately.  In  a  minute,  however,  her  ear  was  caught 
by  the  low  question  : 

"  This  woman  on  the  left  ?  " 

And  somebody  in  a  louder  voice  cheerfully  answered : 

"  Yes." 

She  looked  around.  The  man  with  the  uneven  shoul- 
ders stood  sidewise  toward  her,  and  said  something  to 
his  neighbor,  a  black-bearded  fellow  with  a  short  over- 
coat and  boots  up  to  his  knees. 

445 


MOTHER 

Again  her  memory  stirred  uneasily,  but  did  not  yield 
any  distinct  results. 

The  watchman  opened  the  door  of  the  hall,  and 
shouted : 

"  Relatives,  enter ;  show  your  tickets !  " 

A  sullen  voice  said  lazily : 

"  Tickets !    Like  a  circus  !  " 

All  the  people  now  showed  signs  of  a  dull  excitement, 
an  uneasy  passion.  They  began  to  behave  more  freely, 
and  hummed  and  disputed  with  the  watchman. 

Sitting  down  on  the  bench,  Sizov  mumbled  something 
to  the  mother. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  mother. 

"  Oh,  nothing  —  the  people  are  fools !  They  know 
nothing;  they  live  groping  about  and  groping  about." 

The  bellman  rang;  somebody  announced  indiffer- 
ently : 

"  The  session  has  begun !  " 

Again  all  arose,  and  again,  in  the  same  order,  the 
judges  filed  in  and  sat  down;  then  the  prisoners  were 
led  in. 

"  Pay  attention !  "  whispered  Sizov ;  "  the  prosecuting 
attorney  is  going  to  speak." 

The  mother  craned  her  neck  and  extended  her  whole 
body.    She  yielded  anew  to  expectation  of  the  horrible. 

Standing  sidewise  toward  the  judges,  his  head  turned 
to  them,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  desk,  the  prosecuting 
attorney  sighed,  and  abruptly  waving  his  right  hand  in 
the  air,  began  to  speak: 

The  mother  could  not  make  out  the  first  words.  The 
prosecuting  attorney's  voice  was  fluent,  thick ;  it  sped  on 
unevenly,  now  a  bit  slower,  now  a  bit  faster.  His  words 
stretched  out  in  a  thin  line,  like  a  gray  seam ;  suddenly 
they  burst  out  quickly  and  whirled  like  a  flock  of  black 

446 


MOTHER 

flies  around  a  piece  of  sugar.  But  she  did  not  find  any- 
thing horrible  in  them,  nothing  threatening.  Cold  as 
snow,  gray  as  ashes,  they  fell  and  fell,  filling  the  hall  with 
something  which  recalled  a  slushy  day  in  early  autumn. 
Scant  in  feeling,  rich  in  words,  the  speech  seemed  not 
to  reach  Pavel  and  his  comrade.  Apparently  it  touched 
none  of  them ;  they  all  sat  there  quite  composed,  smiling 
at  times  as  before,  and  conversed  without  sound.  At 
times  they  frowned  to  cover  up  their  smiles. 

"  He  lies !  "  whispered  Sizov. 

She  could  not  have  said  it.  She  understood  that  the 
prosecuting  attorney  charged  all  the  comrades  with  guilt, 
not  singling  out  any  one  of  them.  After  having  spoken 
about  Pavel,  he  spoke  about  Fedya,  and  having  put  him 
side  by  side  with  Pavel,  he  persistently  thrust  Bukin  up 
against  them.  It  seemed  as  if  he  packed  and  sewed  them 
into  a  sack,  piling  them  up  on  top  of  one  another.  But 
the  external  sense  of  his  words  did  not  satisfy,  did  not 
touch,  did  not  frighten  her.  She  still  waited  for  the  hor- 
rible, and  rigorously  sought  something  beyond  his  words 
— something  in  his  face,  his  eyes,  his  voice,  in  his  white 
hand,  which  slowly  glided  in  the  air.  Something  terrible 
must  be  there ;  she  felt  it,  but  it  was  impalpable ;  it  did 
not  yield  to  her  consciousness,  which  again  covered  her 
heart  with  a  dry,  pricking  dust. 

She  looked  at  the  judges.  There  was  no  gainsaying 
that  they  were  bored  at  having  to  listen  to  this  speech. 
The  lifeless,  yellow  faces  expressed  nothing.  The  sickly, 
the  fat,  or  the  extremely  lean,  motionless  dead  spots  all 
grew  dimmer  and  dimmer  in  the  dull  cnnin  that  filled  the 
hall.  The  words  of  the  prosecuting  attorney  spurted  into 
the  air  like  a  haze  imperceptible  to  the  eye,  growing  and 
thickening  around  the  judges,  enveloping  them  more 
closely  in  a  cloud  of  dry  indifference,  of  weary  waiting. 

447 


MOTHER 

At  times  one  of  them  changed  his  pose;  but  the  lazy 
movement  of  the  tired  body  did  not  rouse  their  drowsy 
souls.  The  oldest  judge  did  not  stir  at  all;  he  was  con- 
gealed in  his  erect  position,  and  the  gray  blots  behind 
the  eyeglasses  at  times  disappeared,  seeming  to  spread 
over  his  whole  face.  The  mother  realized  this  dead  indif- 
ference, this  unconcern  without  malice  in  it,  and  asked 
herself  in  perplexity,  "  Are  they  judging?  " 

The  question  pressed  her  heart,  and  gradually  squeezed 
out  of  it  her  expectation  of  the  horrible.  It  pinched  her 
throat  with  a  sharp  feeling  of  wrong. 

The  speech  of  the  prosecuting  attorney  snapped  off 
unexpectedly.  He  made  a  few  quick,  short  steps,  bowed 
to  the  judges,  and  sat  down,  rubbing  his  hands.  The 
marshal  of  the  nobility  nodded  his  head  to  him,  rolling 
his  eyes ;  the  city  mayor  extended  his  hand,  and  the  dis- 
trict elder  stroked  his  belly  and  smiled. 

But  the  judges  apparently  were  not  delighted  by  the 
speech,  and  did  not  stir. 

"  The  scabby  devil !  "    Sizov  whispered  the  oath. 

'*  Next,"  said  the  old  judge,  bringing  the  paper  to  his 
face,  "  lawyers  for  the  defendants,  Fedoseyev,  Markov, 
Zagarov." 

The  lawyer  whom  the  mother  had  seen  at  Nikolay's 
arose.  His  face  was  broad  and  good-natured;  his  little 
eyes  smiled  radiantly  and  seemed  to  thrust  out  from 
under  his  eyebrows  two  sharp  blades,  which  cut  the  air 
like  scissors.  He  spoke  without  haste,  resonantly,  and 
clearly ;  but  the  mother  was  unable  to  listen  to  his  speech. 
Sizov  whispered  in  her  ear : 

"  Did  you  understand  what  he  said  ?  Did  you  under- 
stand? 'People,'  he  says,  'are  poor,  they  are  all  upset, 
insensate.'  Is  that  Fedor?  He  says  they  don't  under- 
stand anything ;  they're  savages." 

448 


MOTHER 

The  feeling  of  wrong  grew,  and  passed  into  revolt. 
Along  with  the  quick,  loud  voice  of  the  lawyer,  time  also 
passed  more  quickly. 

"  A  live,  strong  man  having  in  his  breast  a  sensitive, 
honest  heart  cannot  help  rebelling  with  all  his  force 
against  this  life  so  full  of  open  cynicism,  corruption, 
falsehood,  and  so  blunted  by  vapidity.  The  eyes  of  hon- 
est people  cannot  help  seeing  such  glaring  contradic- 
tions  " 

The  judge  with  the  green  face  bent  toward  the  presi- 
dent and  whispered  something  to  him ;  then  the  old  man 
said  dryly : 

"  Please  be  more  careful !  " 

"  Ha !  "  Sizov  exclaimed  softly. 

"Are  they  judging?'*  thought  the  mother,  and  the 
word  seemed  hollow  and  empty  as  an  earthen  vessel. 
It  seemed  to  make  sport  of  her  fear  of  the  terrible. 

"  They're  a  sort  of  dead  body,"  she  answered  the  old 
man. 

"  Don't  fear ;  they're  livening  up." 

She  looked  at  them,  and  she  actually  saw  something 
Hkc  a  shadow  of  uneasiness  on  the  faces  of  the  judges. 
Another  man  was  already  speaking,  a  little  lawyer  with 
a  sharp,  pale,  satiric  face.    He  spoke  very  respectfully : 

''  With  all  due  respect,  I  permit  myself  to  call  the  at- 
tention of  the  court  to  the  solid  manner  of  the  honorable 
prosecuting  attorney,  to  the  conduct  of  the  safety  depart- 
ment, or,  as  such  people  are  called  in  common  parlance, 
spies " 

The  judge  with  the  green  face  again  began  to  whis- 
per something  to  the  president.  The  prosecuting  attor- 
ney jumped  up.  The  lawyer  continued  without  changing 
his  voice: 

"  The  spy  Gyman  tells  us  about  the  witness :  '  I  fright- 

449 


MOTHER 

ened  him.'  The  prosecuting  attorney  also,  as  the  court 
has  heard,  frightened  witnesses ;  as  a  result  of  which  act, 
at  the  insistence  of  the  defense,  he  called  forth  a  rebuke 
from  the  presiding  judge." 

The  prosecuting  attorney  began  to  speak  quickly  and 
angrily;  the  old  judge  followed  suit;  the  lawyer  listened 
to  them  respectfully,  inclining  his  head.    Then  he  said : 

"  I  can  even  change  the  position  of  my  words  if  the 
prosecuting  attorney  deems  it  is  not  in  the  right  place; 
but  that  will  not  change  the  plan  of  my  defense.  How- 
ever, I  cannot  understand  the  excitement  of  the  prosecut- 
ing attorney." 

"  Go  for  him !  "  said  Sizov.  "  Go  for  him,  tooth  and 
nail !  Pick  him  open  down  to  his  soul,  wherever  that 
may  be !  " 

The  hall  became  animated ;  a  fighting  passion  flared 
up;  the  defense  attacked  from  all  sides,  provoking  and 
disturbing  the  judges,  driving  away  the  cold  haze  that 
enveloped  them,  pricking  the  old  skin  of  the  judges  with 
sharp  words.  The  judges  had  the  air  of  moving  more 
closely  to  one  another,  or  suddenly  they  Would  puflf  and 
swell,  repulsing  the  sharp,  caustic  raps  with  the  mass  of 
their  soft,  mellow  bodies.  They  acted  as  if  they  feared 
that  the  blow  of  the  opponent  might  call  forth  an  echo  in 
their  empty  bosoms,  might  shake  their  resolution,  which 
sprang  not  from  their  own  will  but  from  a  will  strange 
to  them.  Feeling  this  conflict,  the  people  on  the  benches 
back  of  the  mother  sighed  and  whispered. 

But  suddenly  Pavel  arose ;  tense  quiet  prevailed.  The 
mother  stretched  her  entire  body  forward. 

"  A  party  man,  I  recognize  only  the  court  of  my  party 
and  will  not  speak  in  my  defense.  According  to  the 
desire  of  my  comrades,  I,  too,  declined  a  defense.  I  will 
merely  try  to  explain  to  you  what  you  don't  understand. 

450 


MOTHER 

The  prosecuting  attorney  designated  our  coming  out 
tinder  the  banner  of  the  Social  Democracy  as  an  uprising 
against  the  superior  power,  and  regarded  us  as  nothing 
but  rebels  against  the  Czar.  I  must  declare  to  you  that 
to  us  the  Czar  is  not  the  only  chain  that  fetters  the  body 
of  the  country.  We  are  obliged  to  tear  off  only  the  first 
and  nearest  chain  from  the  people." 

The  stillness  deepened  under  the  sound  of  the  firm 
voice ;  it  seemed  to  widen  the  space  between  the  walls  of 
the  hall.  Pavel,  by  his  words,  removed  the  people  to  a  dis- 
tance from  himself,  and  thereby  grew  in  the  eyes  of  the 
mother.  His  stony,  calm,  proud  face  with  the  beard,  his 
high  forehead,  and  blue  eyes,  somewhat  stern,  all  became 
more  dazzling  and  more  prominent. 

The  judges  began  to  stir  heavily  and  uneasily;  the 
marshal  of  the  nobility  was  the  first  to  whisper  something 
to  the  judge  with  the  indolent  face.  The  judge  nodded 
his  head  and  turned  to  the  old  man ;  on  the  other  side  of 
him  the  sick  judge  was  talking.  Rocking  back  and  forth 
in  the  armchair,  the  old  judge  spoke  to  Pavel,  but  his 
voice  was  drowned  in  the  even,  broad  current  of  the 
young  man's  speech. 

"  We  are  Socialists !  That  means  we  are  enemies  to 
private  property,  which  separates  people,  arms  them 
against  one  another,  and  brings  forth  an  irreconcilable 
hostility  of  interests;  brings  forth  lies  that  endeavor  to 
cover  up,  or  to  justify,  this  conflict  of  interests,  and  cor- 
rupt all  with  falsehood,  hypocrisy  and  malice.  We  main- 
tain that  a  society  that  regards  man  only  as  a  tool  for 
its  enrichment  is  anti-human ;  it  is  hostile  to  us ;  we  can- 
not be  reconciled  to  its  morality;  its  double-faced  and 
lying  cynicism.  Its  cruel  relation  to  individuals  is  repug- 
nant to  us.  We  want  to  fight,  and  will  fight,  every  form 
of  the  physical  and  moral  enslavement  of  man  by  such  a 

451 


MOTHER 

society ;  we  will  fight  every  measure  calculated  to  disinte- 
grate society  for  the  gratification  of  the  interests  of  gain. 
We  are  workers  —  men  by  whose  labor  everything  is 
created,  from  gigantic  machines  to  childish  toys.  We 
are  people  devoid  of  the  right  to  fight  for  our  human  dig- 
nity. Everyone  strives  to  utilize  us,  and  may  utilize  us, 
as  tools  for  the  attainment  of  his  ends.  Now  we  want  to 
have  as  much  freedom  as  will  give  us  the  possibility  in 
time  to  come  to  conquer  all  the  power.  Our  slogan  is 
simple :  '  All  the  power  for  the  people ;  all  the  means  of 
production  for  the  people ;  work  obligatory  on  all.  Down 
with  private  property ! '    You  see,  we  are  not  rebels." 

Pavel  smiled,  and  the  kindly  fire  of  his  blue  eyes 
blazed  forth  more  brilliantly. 

"  Please,  more  to  the  point!  "  said  the  presiding  judge 
distinctly  and  aloud.  He  turned  his  chest  to  Pavel,  and 
regarded  him.  It  seemed  to  the  mother  that  his  dim 
left  eye  began  to  burn  with  a  sinister,  greedy  fire.  The 
look  all  the  judges  cast  on  her  son  made  her  uneasy  for 
him.  She  fancied  that  their  eyes  clung  to  his  face,  stuck 
to  his  body,  thirsted  for  his  blood,  by  which  they  might 
reanimate  their  own  worn-out  bodies.  And  he,  erect  and 
tall,  standing  firmly  and  vigorously,  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  them  while  he  spoke  distinctly : 

"  We  are  revolutionists,  and  will  be  such  as  long  as 
private  property  exists,  as  long  as  some  merely  command, 
and  as  long  as  others  merely  work.  We  take  stand 
against  the  society  whose  interests  you  are  bidden  to  pro- 
tect as  your  irreconcilable  enemies,  and  reconciliation  be- 
tween us  is  impossible  until  we  shall  have  been  victori- 
ous. We  will  conquer — we  workingmen!  Your  society 
is  not  at  all  so  powerful  as  it  thinks  itself.  That  very 
property,  for  the  production  and  preservation  of  which 
it  sacrifices  millions  of  people  enslaved  by  it — that  very 

452 


MOTHER 

force  which  gives  it  the  power  over  us  —  stirs  up  dis- 
cord within  its  own  ranks,  destroys  them  physically  and 
morally.  Property  requires  extremely  great  efforts  for 
its  protection;  and  in  reality  all  of  you,  our  rulers,  are 
greater  slaves  than  we — ^you  are  enslaved  spiritually,  we 
only  physically.  You  cannot  withdraw  from  under  the 
weight  of  your  prejudices  and  habits,  the  weight  which 
deadens  you  spiritually;  nothing  hinders  us  from  being 
inwardly  free.  The  poisons  with  which  you  poison  us  are 
weaker  than  the  antidote  you  unwittingly  administer  to  our 
consciences.  This  antidote  penetrates  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  body  of  workingmen;  the  flames  mount  higher 
and  higher,  sucking  in  the  best  forces,  the  spiritual  pow- 
ers, the  healthy  elements  even  from  among  you.  Look! 
Not  one  of  you  can  any  longer  fight  for  your  power  as  an 
ideal !  You  have  already  expended  all  the  arguments  capa- 
ble of  guarding  you  against  the  pressure  of  historic  justice. 
You  can  create  nothing  new  in  the  domain  of  ideas ;  you 
are  spiritually  barren.  Our  ideas  grow;  they  flare  up 
ever  more  dazzling;  they  seize  hold  of  the  mass  of  the 
people,  organizing  them  for  the  war  of  freedom.  The 
consciousness  of  their  great  role  unites  all  the  working- 
men  of  the  world  into  one  soul.  You  have  no  means 
whereby  to  hinder  this  renovating  process  in  life  except 
cruelty  and  cynicism.  But  your  cynicism  is  very  evident, 
your  cruelty  exasperates,  and  the  hands  with  which  you 
stifle  us  to-day  will  press  our  hands  in  comradeship  to- 
morrow. Your  energy,  the  mechanical  energy  of  the 
increase  of  gold,  separates  you,  too,  into  groups  destined 
to  devour  one  another.  Our  energy  is  a  living  power, 
founded  on  the  ever-growing  consciousness  of  the  soli- 
darity of  all  workingmen.  Everything  you  do  is  crim- 
inal, for  it  is  directed  toward  the  enslavement  of  the 
people.    Our  work  frees  the  world  from  the  delusions  and 

453 


MOTHMR 

monsters  which  are  produced  by  your  malice  and  greedy 
and  which  intimidate  the  people.  You  have  torn  man  away 
from  life  and  disintegrated  him.  Socialism  will  unite  the 
world,  rent  asunder  by  you,  into  one  huge  whole.  And 
this  will  be !  " 

Pavel  stopped  for  a  second,  and  repeated  in  a  lower 
tone,  with  greater  emphasis,   "  This  will  be !  " 

The  judges  whispered  to  one  another,  making  strange 
grimaces.  And  still  their  greedy  looks  were  fastened  ort 
the  body  of  Nilovna's  son.  The  mother  felt  that  their 
gaze  tarnished  this  supple,  vigorous  body;  that  they 
envied  its  strength,  power,  freshness.  The  prisoners 
listened  attentively  to  the  speech  of  their  comrade ;  their 
faces  whitened,  their  eyes  flashed  joy.  The  mother  drank: 
in  her  son's  words,  which  cut  themselves  into  her  memory 
in  regular  rows.  The  old  judge  stopped  Pavel  severaf. 
times  and  explained  something  to  him.  Once  he  even 
smiled  sadly.  Pavel  listened  to  him  silently,  and  again 
began  to  speak  in  an  austere  but  calm  voice,  compelling 
everybody  to  listen  to  him,  subordinating  the  will  of  the 
judges  to  his  will.  This  lasted  for  a  long  time.  Finally,, 
however,  the  old  man  shouted,  extending  his  hand  ta 
Pavel,  whos^  voice  in  response  flowed  on  calmly,  some- 
what sarcastically. 

"  I  am  reaching  my  conclusion.  To  insult  you  per- 
sonally was  not  my  desire ;  on  the  contrary,  as  an  invol- 
untary witness  to  this  comedy  which  you  call  a  court 
trial,  I  feel  almost  compassion  for  you,  I  may  say.  You 
are  human  beings  after  all;  and  it  is  saddening  to  see 
human  beings,  even  our  enemies,  so  shamefully  debased 
m  the  service  of  violence,  debased  to  such  a  degree  that 
they  lose  consciousness  of  their  human  dignity." 

He  sat  down  without  looking  at  the  judges. 

Audrey,  all  radiant  with  joy,  pressed  hi«  hand  fitmly  j 
454 


MOTHER 

Samoylov,  Mazin,  and  the  rest  animatedly  stretched  to- 
ward him.  He  smiled,  a  bit  embarrassed  by  the  transport 
of  his  comrades.  He  looked  toward  his  mother,  and  nod- 
ded his  head  as  if  asking,  "  Is  it  so  ?  " 

She  answered  him  all  a-tremble,  all  suffused  with 
warm  joy. 

'*  There,  now  the  trial  has  begun !  "  whispered  Sizov. 
"  How  he  gave  it  to  them !    Eh,  mother  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XVI 

'HE  silently  nodded  her  head  and  smiled,  sat- 
isfied that  her  son  had  spoken  so  bravely, 
perhaps  still  more  satisfied  that  he  had  fin- 
ished. The  thought  darted  through  her 
mind  that  the  speech  was  likely  to  increase 
the  dangers  threatening  Pavel;  but  her  heart  palpitated 
with  pride,  and  his  words  seemed  to  settle  in  her  bosom. 

Audrey  arose,  swung  his  body  forward,  looked  at  the 
judges  sidewise,  and  said : 

**  Gentlemen  of  the  defense " 

"  The  court  is  before  you,  and  not  the  defense !  '* 
observed  the  judge  of  the  sickly  face  angrily  and  loudly. 
By  Audrey's  expression  the  mother  perceived  that  he 
wanted  to  tease  them.  His  mustache  quivered.  A  cun- 
ning, feline  smirk  familiar  to  her  lighted  up  his  eyes.  He 
stroked  his  head  with  his  long  hands,  and  fetched  a 
breath. 

"  Is  that  so?"  he  said,  swinging  his  head.  "  I  think 
not.  That  you  are  not  the  judges,  but  only  the  defend- 
ants  " 

*'  I  request  you  to  adhere  to  what  directly  pertains  to 
the  case,"  remarked  the  old  man  dryly. 

*' To  what  directly  pertains  to  the  case?  Very  well! 
I've  already  compelled  myself  to  think  that  you  are  in 

reality  judges,  independent  people,  honest " 

"  The  court  has  no  need  of  your  characterization," 
"  It  has  no  need  of  such  a  characterization  ?     Hey  ? 
456 


MOTHER 

Well,  but  after  all  I'm  going  to  continue.  You  are  men 
who  make  no  distinction  between  your  own  and  strang- 
ers. You  are  free  people.  Now,  here  two  parties  stand 
before  you ;  one  complains,  *  He  robbed  me  and  did  me 
up  completely ' ;  and  the  other  answers,  '  I  have  a  right 
to  rob  and  to,  do  up  because  I  have  arms  ' " 

"  Please  don't  tell  anecdotes." 

"  Why,  I've  heard  that  old  people  like  anecdotes — 
naughty  ones  in  particular." 

''  I'll  prohibit  you  from  speaking.  You  may  say  some- 
thing about  what  directly  pertains  to  the  case.  Speak, 
but  without  buffoonery,  without  unbecoming  sallies." 

The  Little  Russian  looked  at  the  judges,  silently  rub- 
bing his  head. 

"  About  what  directly  pertains  to  the  case?  "  he  asked 
seriously.  "  Yes ;  but  why  should  I  speak  to  you  about 
what  directly  pertains  to  the  case?  What  you  need  to 
know  my  comrade  has  told  you.  The  rest  will  be  told 
you;  the  time  will  come,  by  others " 

The  old  judge  rose  and  declared : 

"  I  forbid  you  to  speak.    Vasily  Samoylov !  " 

Pressing  his  lips  together  firmly  the  Little  Russian 
dropped  down  lazily  on  the  bench,  and  Samoylov  arose 
alongside  of  him,  shaking  his  curly  hair. 

'^  The  prosecuting  attorney  called  my  comrades  and 
me  '  savages/  *  enemies  of  civilization  ' " 

"  You  must  speak  only  about  that  which  pertains  to 
your  case." 

''  This  pertains  to  the  case.  There's  nothing  which 
does  not  pertain  to  honest  men,  and  I  ask  you  not  to 
interrupt  me.  I  ask  you  what  sort  of  a  thing  is  your 
civilization  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  here  for  discussions  with  you.  To  the 
point!  "  said  the  old  judge,  showing  his  teeth. 

457 


MOTHER 

Andrey's  demeanor  had  evidently  changed  the  con- 
duct of  the  judges ;  his  words  seemed  to  have  wiped 
something  away  from  them.  Stains  appeared  on  their 
gray  faces.  Cold,  green  sparks  burned  in  their  eyes. 
Pavel's  speech  had  excited  but  subdued  them ;  it  re- 
strained their  agitation  by  its  force,  which  involuntarily 
inspired  respect.  The  Little  Russian  broke  away  this 
restraint  and  easily  bared  what  lay  underneath.  They 
looked  at  Samoylov,  and  whispered  to  one  another  with 
strange,  wry  faces.  They  also  began  to  move  extremely 
quickly  for  them.  They  gave  the  impression  of  desiring 
to  seize  him  and  howl  while  torturing  his  body  with 
voluptuous  ecstasy. 

*'  You  rear  spies,  you  deprave  women  and  girls,  you 
put  men  in  the  position  which  forces  them  to  thievery 
and  murder ;  you  corrupt  them  with  whisky — interna- 
tional butchery,  universal  falsehood,  depravity,  and  sav- 
agery— that's  your  civilization !  Yes,  we  are  enemies  of 
this  civilization !  " 

"  Please !  "  shouted  the  old  judge,  shaking  his  chin ; 
but  Samoylov,  all  red,  his  eyes  flashing,  also  shouted: 

"  But  we  respect  and  esteem  another  civilization,  the 
creators  of  which  you  have  persecuted,  you  have  allowed 
to  rot  in  dungeons,  you  have  driven  mad " 

"  I  forbid  you  to  speak !     Hm —    Fedor  Mazin !  " 

Little  Mazin  popped  up  like  a  cork  from  a  champagne 
bottle,  and  said  in  a  staccato  voice : 

"  I — I  swear ! — I  know  you  have  convicted  me " 

He  lost  breath  and  paled ;  his  eyes  seemed  to  devour 
his  entire  face.     He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  shouted : 

"  I — upon  my  honest  word !  Wherever  you  send  me 
—  ril  escape — Til  return — Pll  work  always — all  my  life! 
Upon  my  honest  word !  " 

Sizov  quacked  aloud.    The  entire  public,  overcome  by 

458 


MOTHMR 

the  mounting  wave  of  excitement,  hummed  strangely 
and  dully.  One  woman  cried,  some  one  choked  and 
coughed.  The  gendarmes  regarded  the  prisoners  with 
dull  surprise,  the  public  with  a  sinister  look.  The  judges 
shook,  the  old  man  shouted  in  a  thin  voice : 

"  Ivan  Gusev !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  speak." 

"  Vasily  Gusev !  " 

"  Don't  want  to." 

"  Fedor  Bukin !  " 

The  whitish,  faded  fellow  lifted  himself  heavily,  and 
shaking  his  head  slowly  said  in  a  thick  voice: 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed.  I  am  a  heavy  man,  and 
yet  I  understand — justice !  "  He  raised  his  hand  higher 
than  his  head  and  was  silent,  half-closing  his  eyes  as  if 
looking  at  something  at  a  distance. 

"What  is  it?"  shouted  the  old  judge  in  excited  as- 
tonishment, dropping  back  in  his  armchair. 

"  Oh,  well,  what's  the  use?  " 

Bukin  sullenly  let  himself  down  on  the  bench.  There 
was  something  big  and  serious  in  his  dark  eyes,  some- 
thing somberly  reproachful  and  naive.  Everybody  felt 
it;  even  the  judges  listened,  as  if  waiting  for  an  echo 
clearer  than  his  words.  On  the  public  benches  all  com- 
motion died  down  immediately;  only  a  low  weeping 
swung  in  the  air.  Then  the  prosecuting  attorney,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  grinned  and  said  something  to  the 
marshal  of  the  nobility,  and  whispers  gradually  buzzed 
again  excitedly  through  the  hall. 

Weariness  enveloped  the  mother's  body  with  a  stifling 
faintness.  Small  drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  her 
forehead.  Samoylov's  mother  stirrred  on  the  bench, 
nudging  her  with  her  shoulder  and  elbow,  and  said  to 
her  husband  in  a  subdued  whisper : 
30  459 


MOTHER 

"  How  is  this,  now?    Is  it  possible?  " 

*'  You  see,  it's  possible." 

"  But  what  is  going  to  happen  to  him,  to  Vasily  ?  " 

"  Keep  still.     Stop." 

The  public  was  jarred  by  something  it  did  not  under- 
stand. All  blinked  in  perplexity  with  blinded  eyes,  as  if 
dazzled  by  the  sudden  blazing  up  of  an  object,  indis- 
tinct in  outline,  of  unknown  meaning,  but  with  horrible 
drawing  power.  And  since  the  people  did  not  compre- 
hend this  great  thing  dawning  on  them,  they  contracted 
its  significance  into  something  small,  the  meaning  of 
which  was  evident  and  clear  to  them.  The  elder  Bukin, 
therefore,  whispered  aloud  without  constraint: 

"  Say,  please,  why  don't  they  permit  them  to  talk  ? 
The  prosecuting  attorney  can  say  everything,  and  as 
much  as  he  wants  to " 

A  functionary  stood  at  the  benches,  and  waving  his 
hands  at  the  people,  said  in  a  half  voice : 

"  Quiet,  quiet !  " 

The  father  of  Samoylov  threw  himself  back,  and 
ejaculated  broken  words  behind  his  wife's  ear: 

*'  Of  course — let  us  say  they  are  guilty — but  you'll 
let  them  explain.  What  is  it  they  have  gone  against? 
Against  everything — I  wish  to  understand — I,  too,  have 
my  interest."  And  suddenly :  "  Pavel  says  the  truth, 
hey?    I  want  to  understand.    Let  them  speak." 

"  Keep  still !  "  exclaimed  the  functionary,  shaking  his 
finger  at  him. 

Sizov  nodded  his  head  sullenly. 

But  the  mother  kept  her  gaze  fastened  unwaveringly 
on  the  judges,  and  saw  that  they  got  more  and  more 
excited,  conversing  with  one  another  in  indistinct  voices. 
The  sound  of  their  words,  cold  and  tickling,  touched  her 
face,  puckering  the  skin  on  it,  and  filling  her  mouth  with 

460 


MOTHER 

a  sickly,  disgusting  taste.  The  mother  somehow  con- 
ceived that  they  were  all  speaking  of  the  bodies  of  her 
son  and  his  comrades,  their  vigorous  bare  bodies,  their 
muscles,  their  youthful  limbs  full  of  hot  blood,  of  living 
force.  These  bodies  kindled  in  the  judges  the  sinister, 
impotent  envy  of  the  rich  by  the  poor,  the  unwholesome 
greed  felt  by  wasted  and  sick  people  for  the  strength 
of  the  healthy.  Their  mouths  watered  regretfully  for 
these  bodies,  capable  of  working  and  enriching,  of  re- 
joicing and  creating.  The  youths  produced  in  the  old 
judges  the  revengeful,  painful  excitement  of  an  enfeebled 
beast  which  sees  the  fresh  prey,  but  no  longer  has  the 
power  to  seize  it,  and  howls  dismally  at  its  power- 
lessness. 

This  thought,  rude  and  strange,  grew  more  vivid  the 
more  attentively  the  mother  scrutinized  the  judges.  They 
seemed  not  to  conceal  their  excited  greed — the  impotent 
vexation  of  the  hungry  who  at  one  time  had  been  able 
to  consume  in  abundance.  To  her,  a  woman  and  a 
mother,  to  whom  after  all  the  body  of  her  son  is  always 
dearer  than  that  in  him  which  is  called  a  soul,  to  her 
it  was  horrible  to  see  how  these  sticky,  lightless  eyes 
crept  over  his  face,  felt  his  chest,  shoulders,  hands,  tore 
at  the  hot  skin,  as  if  seeking  the  possibility  of  taking  fire, 
of  warming  the  blood  in  their  hardened  brains  and  fa- 
tigued muscles — the  brains  and  muscles  of  people  already 
half  dead,  but  now  to  some  degree  reanimated  by  the 
pricks  of  greed  and  envy  of  a  young  life  that  they  pre- 
sumed to  sentence  and  remove  to  a  distance  from  them- 
selves. It  seemed  to  her  that  her  son,  too,  felt  this  damp, 
unpleasant  tickling  contact,  and,  shuddering,  looked  at 
her. 

He  looked  into  the  mother's  face  with  somewhat 
fatigued  eyes,  but  calmly,  kindly,  and  warmly.    At  times 

461 


MOTHER 

he  nodded  his  head  to  her,  and  smiled — she  understood 
the  smile. 

"  Now  quick !  "  she  said. 

Resting  his  hand  on  the  table  the  oldest  judge  arose. 
His  head  sunk  in  the  collar  of  his  uniform,  standing 
motionless,  he  began  to  read  a  paper  in  a  droning  voice. 

"  He's  reading  the  sentence,"  said  Sizov,  listening. 

It  became  quiet  again,  and  everybody  looked  at  the 
old  man,  small,  dry,  straight,  resembling  the  stick  held 
in  his  unseen  hand.  The  other  judges  also  stood  up. 
The  district  elder  inclined  his  head  on  one  shoulder,  and 
looked  up  to  the  ceiling;  the  mayor  of  the  city  crossed 
his  hands  over  his  chest;  the  marshal  of  the  nobility 
stroked  his  beard.  The  judge  with  the  sickly  face,  his 
puffy  neighbor,  and  the  prosecuting  attorney  regarded 
the  prisoners  sidewise.  And  behind  the  judges  the  Czar 
in  a  red  mihtary  coat,  with  an  indifferent  white  face 
looked  down  from  his  portrait  over  their  heads.  On 
his  face  some  insect  was  creeping,  or  a  cobweb  was 
trembling. 

"  Exile !  "  Sizov  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  dropping 
back  on  the  bench.  "  Well,  of  course !  Thank  God !  I 
heard  that  they  were  going  to  get  hard  labor.  Never 
mind,  mother,  that's  nothing." 

Fatigued  by  her  thoughts  and  her  immobility,  she 
understood  the  joy  of  the  old  man,  which  boldly  raised 
the  soul  dragged  down  by  hopelessness.  But  it  didn't 
enliven  her  much. 

"  Why,  I  knew  it,"  she  answered. 

**  But,  after  all,  it's  certain  now.  Who  could  have 
told  beforehand  what  the  authorities  would  do?  But 
Fedya  is  a  fine  fellow,  dear  soul." 

They  walked  to  the  grill;  the  mother  shed  tears  as 
she  pressed  the  hand  of  her  son.     He  and  Fedya  spoke 

462 


MOTHER 

kind  words,  smiled,  and  joked.  All  were  excited,  but 
light  and  cheerful.  The  women  wept ;  but,  like  Vlasova, 
more  from  habit  than  grief.  They  did  not  experience  the 
stunning  pain  produced  by  an  unexpected  blow  on  the 
head,  but  only  the  sad  consciousness  that  they  must  part 
with  the  children.  But  even  this  consciousness  was 
dimmed  by  the  impressions  of  the  day.  The  fathers  and 
the  mothers  looked  at  their  children  with  mingled  sen- 
sations, in  which  the  skepticism  of  parents  toward  their 
children  and  the  habitual  sense  of  the  superiority  of 
elders  over  youth  blended  strangely  with  the  feeling  of 
sheer  respect  for  them,  with  the  persistent  melancholy 
thought  that  life  had  now  become  dull,  and  with  the  curi- 
osity aroused  by  the  young  men  who  so  bravely  and  fear- 
lessly spoke  of  the  possibility  of  a  new  life,  which  the 
elders  did  not  comprehend  but  which  seemed  to  promise 
something  good.  The  very  novelty  and  unusualness  of 
the  feeling  rendered  expression  impossible.  Words  were 
spoken  in  plenty,  but  they  referred  only  to  common  mat- 
ters. The  relatives  spoke  of  linen  and  clothes,  and 
begged  the  comrades  to  take  care  of  their  health,  and 
not  to  provoke  the  authorities  uselessly. 

"  Everybody,  brother,  will  grow  weary,  both  we  and 
they,"  said  Samoylov  to  his  son. 

And  Bukin's  brother,  waving  his  hand,  assured  the 
younger  brother: 

"  Merely  justice,  and  nothing  else !  That  they  cannot 
admit.'* 

The  younger  Bukin  answered : 

"  You  look  out  for  the  starling.    I  love  him." 

"Come  back  home,  and  you'll  find  him  in  perfect 
trim." 

"  I've  nothing  to  do  there." 

And  Sizov  held  his  nephew's  hand,  and  slowly  said: 
463 


MOTHER 

*'  So,  Fedor ;  so  you Ve  started  on  your  trip.     So." 

Fedya  bent  over,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear, 
smiling  roguishly.  The  convoy  soldier  also  smiled;  but 
he  immediately  assumed  a  stern  expression,  and  shouted, 
"Go!" 

The  mother  spoke  to  Pavel,  like  the  others,  about  the 
same  things,  about  clothes,  about  his  health,  yet  her 
breast  was  choked  by  a  hundred  questions  concerning 
Sasha,  concerning  himself,  and  herself.  Underneath  all 
these  emotions  an  almost  burdensome  feeling  was  slowly 
growing  of  the  fullness  of  her  love  for  her  son — a 
strained  desire  to  please  him,  to  be  near  to  his  heart. 
The  expectation  of  the  terrible  had  died  away,  leaving 
behind  it  only  a  tremor  at  the  recollection  of  the  judges, 
and  somewhere  in  a  corner  a  dark  impersonal  thought 
regarding  them. 

"  Young  people  ought  to  be  tried  by  young  judges, 
and  not  by  old  ones,"  she  said  to  her  son. 

"  It  would  be  better  to  arrange  life  so  that  it  should 
not  force  people  to  crime,"  answered  Pavel. 

The  mother,  seeing  the  Little  Russian  converse  with 
everybody  and  realizing  that  he  needed  affection  more 
than  Pavel,  spoke  to  him.  Andrey  answered  her  grate- 
fully, smiling,  joking  kindly,  as  always  a  bit  droll,  supple, 
sinewy.  Around  her  the  talk  went  on,  crossing  and  in- 
tertwining. She  heard  everything,  understood  every- 
body, and  secretly  marveled  at  the  vastness  of  her  own 
heart,  which  took  in  everything  with  an  even  joy,  and 
gave  back  a  clear  reflection  of  it,  like  a  bright  image  on 
a  deep,  placid  lake. 

Finally  the  prisoners  were  led  away.  The  mother 
walked  out  of  the  court,  and  was  surprised  to  see  that 
night  already  hung  over  the  city,  with  the  lanterns  alight 
in  the  streets,  and  the  stars  shining  in  the  sky.     Groups 

464 


MOTHER 

composed  mainly  of  young  men  were  crowding  near  the 
courthouse.  The  snow  crunched  in  the  frozen  atmos- 
phere ;  voices  sounded.  A  man  in  a  gray  Caucasian  cowl 
looked  into  Sizov's  face  and  asked  quickly: 

"  What  was  the  sentence  ?  " 

"  Exile." 

"For  all?" 

"  All." 

"  Thank  you." 

The  man  walked  away. 

"  You  see/'  said  Sizov.    *'  They  inquire." 

Suddenly  they  were  surrounded  by  about  ten  men, 
youths,  and  girls,  and  explanations  rained  down,  attract- 
ing still  more  people.  The  mother  and  Sizov  stopped. 
They  were  questioned  in  regard  to  the  sentence,  as  to 
how  the  prisoners  behaved,  who  delivered  the  speeches, 
and  what  the  speeches  were  about.  All  the  voices  rang 
with  the  same  eager  curiosity,  sincere  and  warm,  which 
aroused  the  desire  to  satisfy  it. 

"  People !  This  is  the  mother  of  Pavel  Vlasov ! " 
somebody  shouted,  and  presently  all  became  silent. 

"  Permit  me  to  shake  your  hand." 

Somebody's  firm  hand  pressed  the  mother's  fingers, 
somebody's  voice  said  excitedly: 

"  Your  son  will  be  an  example  of  manhood  for  all 
of  us." 

"  Long  live  the  Russian  workingman !  "  a  resonant 
voice  rang  out. 

*'  Long  live  the  proletariat !  " 

*'  Long  live  the  revolution !  " 

The  shouts  grew  louder  and  increased  in  number, 
rising  up  on  all  sides.  The  people  ran  from  every  direc- 
tion, pushing  into  the  crowd  around  the  mother  and 
Sizov.     The  whistles  of  the  police  leaped  through  the 

465 


MOTHER 

air,  but  did  not  deafen  the  shouts.  The  old  man  smiled ; 
and  to  the  mother  all  this  seemed  like  a  pleasant  dream. 
She  smilingly  pressed  the  hands  extended  to  her  and 
bowed,  with  joyous  tears  choking  her  throat.  Near  her 
somebody's  clear  voice  said  nervously : 

"  Comrades,  friends,  the  autocracy,  the  monster  which 
devours  the  Russian  people  to-day  again  gulped  into  its 
bottomless,  greedy  mouth " 

''  However,  mother,  let's  go,"  said  Sizov.  And  at 
the  same  time  Sasha  appeared,  caught  the  mother  under 
her  arm,  and  quickly  dragged  her  away  to  the  other  side 
of  the  street. 

"  Come !  They're  going  to  make  arrests.  What  ? 
Exile?    To  Siberia?" 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"And  how  did  he  speak?  I  know  without  your  tell- 
ing me.  He  was  more  powerful  than  any  of  the  others, 
and  more  simple.  And  of  course,  sterner  than  all  the 
rest.  He's  sensitive  and  soft,  only  he's  ashamed  to  ex- 
pose himself.  And  he's  direct,  clear,  firm,  like  truth  itself. 
He's  very  great,  and  there's  everything  in  him,  every- 
thing! But  he  often  constrains  himself  for  nothing,  lest 
he  might  hinder  the  cause.  I  know  it."  Her  hot  half- 
whisper,  the  words  of  her  love,  calmed  the  mother's  agi- 
tation, and  restored  her  exhausted  strength. 

"  When  will  you  go  to  him  ?  "  she  asked  Sasha,  press- 
ing her  hand  to  her  body.  Looking  confidently  before 
her  the  girl  answered : 

"  As  soon  as  I  find  somebody  to  take  over  my  work. 
I  have  the  money  already,  but  I  might  go  per  etappe. 
You  know  I  am  also  awaiting  a  sentence.  Evidently 
they  are  going  to  send  me  to  Siberia,  too.  I  will  then 
declare  that  I  desire  to  be  exiled  to  the  same  locality  that 
he  will  be." 

466 


MOTHER 

Behind  them  was  heard  the  voice  of  Sizov : 

"  Then  give  him  regards  from  me,  from  Sizov.  He 
will  know.     I'm  Fedya  Mazin's  uncle." 

Sasha  stopped,  turned  around,  extending  her  hand. 

"  Fm  acquainted  with  Fedya.  My  name  is  Alex- 
andra." 

"  And  your  patronymic  ?  '* 

She  looked  at  him  and  answered: 

"  I  have  no  father." 

"  He's  dead,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,  he's  alive."  Something  stubborn,  persistent, 
sounded  in  the  girl's  voice  and  appeared  in  her  face. 
*'  He's  a  landowner,  a  chief  of  a  country  district.  He 
robs  the  peasants  and  beats  them.  I  cannot  recognize 
him  as  my  father." 

"  S-s-o-o !  "  Sizov  was  taken  aback.  After  a  pause 
he  said,  looking  at  the  girl  sidewise : 

''  Well,  mother,  good-by.  Fm  going  off  to  the  left. 
Stop  in  sometimes  for  a  talk  and  a  glass  of  tea.  Good 
evening,  lady.  You're  pretty  hard  on  your  father — of 
course,  that's  your  business."  ^ 

"If  your  son  were  an  ugly  man,  obnoxious  to  people,, 
disgusting  to  you,  wouldn't  you  say  the  same  about 
him  ?  "  Sasha  shouted  terribly. 

"  Well,  I  would,"  the  old  man  answered  after  some 
hesitation. 

*■      "  That  is  to  say  that  justice  is  dearer  to  you  thaff 
your  son ;  and  to  me  it's  dearer  than  my  father." 

Sizov  smiled,  shaking  his  head;  then  he  said  with  a 
§igh  J 

^^  Well,  well,  you're  clever.  Good-by.  I  wish  you". 
gU  good  things,  and  be  better  to  people.  Hey?  WelU 
God  be  with  you.  Good-by,  Nilovna.  When  you  see 
Pnvd  tell  him  I  heard  his  speech.    I  couldn't  understand 

467 


MOTHER 

every  bit  of  it ;  some  things  even  seemed  horrible ;  but  tell 
him  it's  true.    They've  found  the  truth,  yes." 

He  raised  his  hat,  and  sedately  turned  around  the 
corner  of  the  street. 

'*  He  seems  to  be  a  good  man,"  remarked  Sasha,  ac- 
companying him  with  a  smile  of  her  large  eyes.  "  Such 
people  can  be  useful  to  the  cause.  It  would  be  good  to 
hide  Hterature  with  them,  for  instance." 

It  seemed  to  the  mother  that  to-day  the  girl's  face 
was  softer  and  kinder  than  usual,  and  hearing  her  re- 
marks about  Sizov,  she  thought : 

"  Always  about  the  cause.  Even  to-day.  It's  burned 
into  her  heart." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

T  home  they  sat  on  the  sofa  closely  pressed 
together,  and  the  mother  resting  in  the 
quiet  again  began  to  speak  about  Sasha's 
going  to  Pavel.  Thoughtfully  raising  her 
thick  eyebrows,  the  girl  looked  into  the  dis- 
tance with  her  large,  dreamy  eyes.  A  contemplative 
expression  rested  on  her  pale  face. 

"  Then,  when  children  will  be  born  to  you,  I  will 
come  to  you  and  dandle  them.  We'll  begin  to  live  there 
no  worse  than  here.  Pasha  will  find  work.  He  has 
golden  hands." 

"Yes,"  answered  Sasha  thoughtfully.  "That's 
good — "  And  suddenly  starting,  as  if  throwing  some- 
thing away,  she  began  to  speak  simply  in  a  modulated 
voice.  "  He  won't  commence  to  live  there.  He'll  go 
away,  of  course." 

"And  how  will  that  be?  Suppose,  in  case  of  chil- 
dren?" 

"  I  don't  know.  We'll  see  when  we  are  there.  In 
such  a  case  he  oughtn't  to  reckon  with  me,  and  I  cannot 
constrain  him.  He's  free  at  any  moment.  I  am  his 
comrade — a  wife,  of  course.  But  the  conditions  of  his 
work  are  such  that  for  years  and  years  I  cannot  regard 
our  bond  as  a  usual  one,  like  that  of  others.  It  will  be 
hard,  I  know  it,  to  part  with  him;  but,  of  course,  I'll 
manage  to.    He  knows  that  I'm  not  capable  of  regarding 

469 


MOTHER 

a  man  as  my  possession.  I'm  not  going  to  constrain 
him,  no." 

The  mother  understood  her,  felt  that  she  believed 
what  she  said,  that  she  was  capable  of  carrying  it  out; 
and  she  was  sorry  for  her.    She  embraced  her. 

"  My  dear  girl,  it  will  be  hard  for  you." 

Sasha  smiled  softly,  nestling  her  body  up  to  the 
mother's.  Her  voice  sounded  mild,  but  powerful.  Red 
mounted  to  her  face. 

**  It's  a  long  time  till  then ;  but  don't  think  that  I — 
that  it  is  hard  for  me  now.  I'm  making  no  sacrifices. 
I  know  what  I'm  doing,  I  know  what  I  may  expect.  I'll 
be  happy  if  I  can  make  him  happy.  My  aim,  my  desire 
is  to  increase  his  energy,  to  give  him  as  much  hap- 
piness and  love  as  I  can — a  great  deal.  I  love  him  very 
much  and  he  me — I  know  it — what  I  bring  to  him, 
he  will  give  back  to  me — we  will  enrich  each  other  by 
all  in  our  power;  and,  if  necessary,  we  will  part  as 
friends." 

Sasha  remained  silent  for  a  long  time,  during  which 
the  mother  and  the  young  woman  sat  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  tightly  pressed  against  each  other,  thinking  of 
the  man  whom  they  loved.  It  was  quiet,  melancholy,  and 
warm. 

Nikolay  entered,  exhausted,  but  brisk.  He  immedi- 
ately announced: 

'*  Well,  Sashenka,  betake  yourself  away  from  here,  as 
long  as  you  are  sound.  Two  spies  have  been  after  me 
since  this  morning,  and  the  attempt  at  concealment  is  so 
evident  that  it  savors  of  an  arrest.  I  feel  it  in  my  bones 
— somewhere  something  has  happened.  By  the  way,  here 
I  have  the  speech  of  Pavel.  It's  been  decided  to  pub- 
lish it  at  once.  Take  it  to  Liudmila.  Pavel  spoke  well, 
Nilovna;  and  his  speech  will  play  a  part.    Look  out  for 

470 


MOTHER 

spies,  Sasha.    Walt  a  little  while — hide  these  papers,  too. 
You  might  give  them  to  Ivan,  for  example." 

While  he  spoke,  he  vigorously  rubbed  his  frozen 
hands,  and  quickly  pulled  out  the  drawers  of  his  table, 
picking  out  papers,  some  of  which  he  tore  up,  others  he 
laid  aside.  His  manner  was  absorbed,  and  his  appearance 
all  upset. 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  was  long  ago  that  this  place 
was  cleared  out?  And  look  at  this  mass  of  stuff  accu- 
mulated already !  The  devil !  You  see,  Nilovna,  it  would 
be  better  for  you,  too,  not  to  sleep  here  to-night.  It's 
a  sorry  spectacle  to  witness,  and  they  may  arrest  you, 
too.  And  you'll  be  needed  for  carrying  Pavel's  speech 
about  from  place  to  place." 

"  Hm,  what  do  they  want  me  for  ?  Maybe  you're 
mistaken." 

Nikolay  waved  his  forearm  in  front  of  his  eyes,  and 
said  with  conviction: 

"  I  have  a  keen  scent.  Besides,  you  can  be  of  great 
help  to  Liudmila.     Flee  far  from  evil." 

The  possibility  of  taking  a  part  in  the  printing  of  her 
son's  speech  was  pleasant  to  her,  and  she  answered: 

"  If  so,  I'll  go.    But  don't  think  I'm  afraid." 

"  Very  well.  Now,  tell  me  where  my  valise  and  my 
linen  are.  You've  grabbed  up  everything  into  your  rapa- 
cious hands,  and  I'm  completely  robbed  of  the  possibility 
of  disposing  of  my  own  private  property.  I'm  making 
complete  preparations — this  will  be  unpleasant  to  them." 

Sasha  burned  the  papers  in  silence,  and  carefully 
mixed  their  ashes  with  the  other  cinders  in  the  stove. 

"  Sasha,  go,"  said  Nikolay,  putting  out  his  hand  to 
her.  "  Good-by.  Don't  forget  books — if  anything  new 
and  interesting  appears.  Well,  good-by,  dear  comrade. 
Be  more  careful." 

47X 


MOTHER 

"  Do  you  think  it's  for  long  ?  "  asked  Sasha. 

"  The  devil  knows  them !  Evidently.  There's  some- 
thing against  me.  Nilovna,  are  you  going  with  her? 
It's  harder  to  track  two  people — all  right?  " 

"  I'm  going."  The  mother  went  to  dress  herself,  and 
it  occurred  to  her  how  little  these  people  who  were  striv- 
ing for  the  freedom  of  all  cared  for  their  personal  free- 
dom. The  simplicity  and  the  businesslike  manner  of 
Nikolay  in  expecting  the  arrest  both  astonished  and 
touched  her.  She  tried  to  observe  his  face  carefully ; 
she  detected  nothing  but  his  air  of  absorption,  over- 
shadowing the  usual  kindly  soft  expression  of  his  eyes. 
There  was  no  sign  of  agitation  in  this  man,  dearer  to 
her  than  the  others ;  he  made  no  fuss.  Equally  attentive 
to  all,  alike  kind  to  all,  always  calmly  the  same,  he 
seemed  to  her  just  as  much  a  stranger  as  before  to 
everybody  and  everything  except  his  cause.  He  seemed 
remote,  living  a  secret  life  within  himself  and  somewhere 
aheaa  of  people.  Yet  she  felt  that  he  resembled  her  more 
than  any  of  the  others,  and  she  loved  him  with  a  love  that 
was  carefully  observing  and,  as  it  were,  did  not  believe 
in  itself.  Now  she  felt  painfully  sorry  for  him ;  but  she 
restrained  her  feelings,  knowing  that  to  show  them  would 
disconcert  Nikolay,  that  he  would  become,  as  always 
under  such  circumstances,  somewhat  ridiculous. 

When  she  returned  to  the  room  she  found  him  press- 
ing Sasha's  hand  and  saying: 

"  Admirable !  I'm  convinced  of  it.  It's  very  good 
for  him  and  for  you.  A  little  personal  happiness  does 
not  do  any  harm ;  but — a  little,  you  know,  so  as  not  to 
make  him  lose  his  value.  Are  you  ready,  Nilovna?" 
He  walked  up  to  her,  smiling  and  adjusting  his  glasses. 
"  Well,  good-by.  I  want  to  think  that  for  three  months, 
four  months — well,  at  most  half  a  year — half  a  year  is 

472 


MOTHER 

a  great  deal  of  a  man's  life.  In  half  a  year  one  can  do 
a  lot  of  things.  Take  care  of  yourself,  please,  eh? 
Come,  let's  embrace."  Lean  and  thin  he  clasped  her 
neck  in  his  powerful  arms,  looked  into  her  eyes,  and 
smiled.  "  It  seems  to  me  I've  fallen  in  love  with  you. 
I  keep  embracing  you  all  the  time." 

She  was  silent,  kissing  his  forehead  and  cheeks,  and 
her  hands  quivered.  For  fear  he  might  notice  it,  she 
unclasped  them. 

"  Go.  Very  well.  Be  careful  to-morrow.  This  is 
what  you  should  do — send  the  boy  in  the  morning — Liud- 
mila  has  a  boy  for  the  purpose — let  him  go  to  the  house 
porter  and  ask  him  whether  I'm  home  or  not.  I'll  fore- 
warn the  porter;  he's  a  good  fellow,  and  I'm  a  friend  of 
his.    Well,  good-by,  comrades.     I  wish  you  all  good." 

On  the  street  Sasha  said  quietly  to  the  mother: 

"  He'll  go  as  simply  as  this  to  his  death,  if  necessary. 
And  apparently  he'll  hurry  up  a  little  in  just  the  same 
way;  when  death  stares  him  in  the  face  he'll  adjust  his 
eyeglasses,  and  will  say  '  admirable,'  and  will  die." 

"  I  love  him,"  whispered  the  mother. 

"  I'm  filled  with  astonishment ;  but  love  him — no.  I 
respect  him  highly.  He's  sort  of  dry,  although  good 
and  even,  if  you  please,  sometimes  soft ;  but  not  suf- 
ficiently human — it  seems  to  me  we're  being  followed. 
Come,  let's  part.  Don't  enter  Liudmila's  place  if  you 
think  a  spy  is  after  you." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  mother.  Sasha,  however,  persist- 
ently added :  "  Don't  enter.  In  that  case,  come  to  me. 
Good-by  for  the  present." 

She  quickly  turned  around  and  walked  back.  The 
mother  called  "  Good-by  "  after  her. 

Within  a  few  minutes  she  sat  all  frozen  through  at 
the  stove  in  Liudmila's  little  room.     Her  hostess,  Liud- 

473 


MOTHER 

mila,  in  a  black  dress  girded  up  with  a  strap,  slowly  paced 
up  and  down  the  room,  filling  it  with  a  rustle  and  the 
sound  of  her  commanding  voice.  A  fire  was  crackling 
in  the  stove  and  drawing  in  the  air  from  the  room.  The 
woman's  voice  sounded  evenly. 

"  People  are  a  great  deal  more  stupid  than  bad. 
They  can  see  only  what's  near  to  them,  what  it's  possible 
to  grasp  immediately ;  but  everything  that's  near  is  cheap  ; 
what's  distant  is  dear.  Why,  in  reality,  it  would  be 
more  convenient  and  pleasanter  for  all  if  life  were  dif- 
ferent, were  lighter,  and  the  people  were  m-ore  sensible. 
But  to  attain  the  distant  you  must  disturb  yourself  for 
the  immediate  present " 

Nilovna  tried  to  guess  where  this  woman  did  her 
printing.  The  room  had  three  windows  facing  the 
street ;  there  was  a  sofa  and  a  bookcase,  a  table,  chairs,  a 
bed  at  the  wall,  in  the  corner  near  it  a  wash  basin,  in  the 
other  corner  a  stove ;  on  the  walls  photographs  and  pic- 
tures. All  was  new,  solid,  clean ;  and  over  all  the  austere 
monastic  figure  of  the  mistress  threw  a  cold  shadow. 
Something  concealed,  something  hidden,  made  itself  felt ; 
but  where  it  lurked  was  incomprehensible.  The  mother 
looked  at  the  doors ;  through  one  of  them  she  had  en- 
tered from  the  little  antechamber.  Near  the  stove  was 
another  door,  narrow  and  high. 

"  I  have  come  to  you  on  business,"  she  said  in  embar- 
rassment, noticing  that  the  hostess  was  regarding  her. 

"  I  know.  Nobody  comes  to  me  for  any  other  rea- 
son. 

Something  strange  seemed  to  be  in  Liudmila's  voice. 
The  mother  looked  in  her  face.  Liudmila  smiled  with  the 
corners  of  her  thin  lips,  her  dull  eyes  gleamed  behind  her 
glasses.  Turning  her  glance  aside,  the  mother  handed 
her  the  speech  of  Pavel. 

474 


MOTHER 

"  Here.    They  ask  you  to  print  it  at  once/' 

And  she  began  to  tell  of  Nikolay's  preparations  for 
the  arrest. 

Liudmila  silently  thrust  the  manuscript  into  her  belt 
and  sat  down  on  a  chair.  A  red  gleam  of  the  fire  was 
reflected  on  her  spectacles ;  its  hot  smile  played  on  her 
motionless  face. 

"  When  they  come  to  me  I'm  going  to  shoot  at  them," 
she  said  with  determination  in  her  moderated  voice.  ''  I 
have  the  right  to  protect  myself  against  violence;  and 
I  must  fight  with  them  if  I  call  upon  others  to  fight.  I 
cannot  understand  calmness ;  I  don't  like  it." 

The  reflection  of  the  fire  glided  across  her  face,  and 
she  again  became  austere,  somewhat  haughty. 

"  Your  life  is  not  very  pleasant,"  the  mother  thought 
kindly. 

Liudmila  began  to  read  Pavel's  speech,  at  first  reluc- 
tantly; then  she  bent  lower  and  lower  over  the  paper, 
quickly  throwing  asid'e  the  pages  as  she  read  them. 
When  she  had  finished  she  rose,  straightened  herself,  and 
walked  up  to  the  mother. 

"  That's  good.  That's  what  I  like ;  although  here,  too, 
there's  calmness.  But  the  speech  is  the  sepulchral  beat 
of  a  drum,  and  the  drummer  is  a  powerful  man." 

She  reflected  a  little  while,  lowering  her  head  for  a 
minute : 

"  I  didn't  want  to  speak  with  you  about  your  son ;  I 
have  never  met  him,  and  I  don't  like  sad  subjects  of  con- 
versation. I  know  what  it  means  to  have  a  near  one  go 
into  exile.  But  I  want  to  say  to  you,  nevertheless,  that 
your  son  must  be  a  splendid  man.  He's  young — that's 
evident ;  but  he  is  a  great  soul.  It  must  be  good  and  ter- 
rible to  have  such  a  son." 

"  Yes,  it's  good.    And  now  it's  no  longer  terrible." 
31  475 


MOTHER 

Liudmlla  settled  her  smoothly  combed  hair  with  her 
tawny  hand  and  sighed  softly.  A  light,  warm  shadow 
trembled  on  her  cheeks,  the  shadow  of  a  suppressed  smile. 

"  We  are  going  to  print  it.    Will  you  help  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

''  I'll  set  it  up  quickly.  You  lie  down ;  you  had  a  hard 
day ;  you're  tired.  Lie  down  here  on  the  bed ;  I'm  not 
going  to  sleep;  and  at  night  maybe  I'll  wake  you  up  to 
help  me.    When  you  have  lain  down,  put  out  the  lamp,'* 

She  threw  two  logs  of  wood  into  the  stove,  straight- 
ened herself,  and  passed  through  the  narrow  door  near 
the  stove,  firmly  closing  it  after  her.  The  mother  fol- 
lowed her  with  her  eyes,  and  began  to  undress  herself, 
thinking  reluctantly  of  her  hostess :  "  A  stern  person ; 
and  yet  her  heart  burns.  She  can't  conceal  it.  Every- 
one loves.    If  you  don't  love  you  can't  live." 

Fatigue  dizzied  her  brain ;  but  her  soul  was  strangely 
calm,  and  everything  was  illumined  from  within  by  a  soft, 
kind  light  which  quietly  and  evenly  filled  her  breast.  She 
was  already  acquainted  with  this  calm ;  it  had  come  to 
her  after  great  agitation.  At  first  it  had  slightly  dis- 
turbed her ;  but  now  it  only  broadened  her  soul,  strength- 
ening it  with  a  certain  powerful  but  impalpable  thought. 
Before  her  all  the  time  appeared  and  disappeared  the 
faces  of  her  son,  Audrey,  Nikolay,  Sasha.  She  took  de- 
light in  them ;  they  passed  by  without  arousing  thought, 
and  only  lightly  and  sadly  touching  her  heart.  Then  she 
extinguished  the  lamp,  lay  down  in  the  cold  bed,  shriv- 
eled up  under  the  bed  coverings,  and  suddenly  sank  into 
a  heavy  sleep. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


HEN   she  opened  her  eyes  the  room  was 

filled  by  the  cold,  white  glimmer  of  a  clear 

wintry  day.     The  hostess,  with  a  book  in 

her   hand,   lay   on   the   sofa,    and   smiling 

unlike  herself  looked  into  her  face. 

"  Oh,    father ! "    the    mother    exclaimed,    for    some 

reason  embarrassed.    "  Just  look!    Have  I  been  asleep  a 

long  time?  " 

"  Good  morning !  "  answered  Liudmila.     "  It'll  soon 
be  ten  o'clock.    Get  up  and  we'll  have  tea." 
*'  Why  didn't  you  wake  me  up  ?  " 
"  I  wanted  to.    I  walked  up  to  you ;  but  you  were  so 
fast  asleep  and  smiled  so  in  your  sleep  1 " 

With  a  supple,  powerful  movement  of  her  whole  body 
she  rose  from  the  sofa,  walked  up  to  the  bed,  bent  toward 
the  face  of  the  mother,  and  in  her  dull  eyes  the  mother 
saw  something  dear,  near,  and  comprehensible. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  disturb  you.  Maybe  you  were  seeing 
a  happy  vision." 

"  I  didn't  see  anything." 

"  All  the  same — but  your  smile  pleased  me.  It  was 
so  calm,  so  good — so  great."  Liudmila  laughed,  and  her 
laugh  sounded  velvety.  **  I  thought  of  you,  of  your  life 
— your  life  is  a  hard  one,  isn't  it  ?  " 

The  mother,  moving  her  eyebrows,  was  silent  and 
thoughtful. 

"  Of  course  it's  hard !  "  exclaimed  Liudmila. 
477 


MOTHER 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  mother  carefully.  "  Some- 
times it  seems  sort  of  hard ;  there's  so  much  of  all,  its 
all  so  serious,  marvelous,  and  it  moves  along  so  quickly, 
one  thing  after  the  other — so  quickly " 

The  wave  of  bold  excitement  familiar  to  her  over- 
flowed her  breast,  filling  her  heart  with  images  and 
thoughts.  She  sat  up  in  bed,  quickly  clothing  her 
thoughts  in  words. 

"  It  goes,  it  goes,  it  goes  all  to  one  thing,  to  one  side, 
and  like  a  fire,  when  a  house  begins  to  burn,  upward! 
Here  it  shoots  forth,  there  it  blazes  out,  ever  brighter, 
ever  more  powerful.  There's  a  great  deal  of  hardship, 
you  know.  People  suffer ;  they  are  beaten,  cruelly  beaten ; 
and  everyone  is  oppressed  and  watched.  They  hide,  live 
like  monks,  and  many  joys  are  closed  to  them ;  it's  very 
hard.  And  when  you  look  at  them  well  you  see  that  the 
hard  things,  the  evil  and  difficult,  are  around  them,  on 
the  outside,  and  not  within." 

Liudmila  quickly  threw  up  her  head,  looked  at  her 
with  a  deep,  embracing  look.  The  mother  felt  that  her 
words  did  not  exhaust  her  thoughts,  which  vexed  and 
offended  her. 

"  You're  not  speaking  about  yourself,"  said  her  hostess 
softly. 

The  mother  looked  at  her,  arose  from  the  bed,  and 
dressing  asked: 

*'  Not  about  myself?  Yes ;  you  see  in  this,  in  all  that 
I  live  now,  it's  hard  to  think  of  oneself;  how  can  you 
withdraw  into  yourself  when  you  love  this  thing,  and  that 
thing  is  dear  to  you,  and  you  are  afraid  for  everybody 
and  are  sorry  for  everybody?  Everything  crowds  into 
your  heart  and  draws  you  to  all  people.  How  can  you 
step  to  one  side  ?    It's  hard." 

Liudmila  laughed,  saying  softly : 
478 


MOTHER 

"  And  maybe  it's  not  necessary." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  necessary  or  not ;  but 
this  I  do  know — that  people  are  becoming  stronger  than 
life,  wiser  than  Hfe ;  that's  evident." 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  half-dressed,  she 
fell  to  reflecting  for  a  moment.  Her  real  self  suddenly  ap- 
peared not  to  exist — the  one  who  lived  in  anxiety  and  fear 
for  her  son,  in  thoughts  for  the  safekeeping  of  his  body. 
Such  a  person  in  herself  was  no  longer ;  she  had  gone  off 
to  a  great  distance^  and  perhaps  was  altogether  burned  up 
by  the  fire  of  agitation.  This  had  lightened  and  cleansed 
her  soul,  and  had  renovated  her  heart  with  a  new  power. 
She  communed  with  herself,  desiring  to  take  a  look  into 
her  own  heart,  and  fearing  lest  she  awaken  some  anxiety 
there. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ? "  Liudmila  asked 
kindly,  walking  up  to  her. 

"  I  don't  know." 

The  two  women  were  silent,  looking  at  each  other. 
Both  smiled;  then  Liudmila  walked  out  of  the  room, 
saying  : 

"  What  is  my  samovar  d.jing?  " 

The  mother  looked  through  the  window.  A  cold, 
bracing  day  shone  in  the  street;  her  breast,  too,  shone 
bright,  but  hot.  She  wanted  to  speak  much  about  every- 
thing, joyfully,  with  a  confused  feeling  of  gratitude  to 
somebody — she  did  not  know  whom — for  all  that  came 
into  her  soul,  and  lighted  it  with  a  ruddy  evening  light. 
A  desire  to  pray,  which  she  had  not  felt  for  a  long  time, 
arose  in  her  breast.  Somebody's  young  face  came  to  her 
memory,  somebody's  resonant  voice  shouted,  "  That's  the 
mother  of  Pavel  Vlasov !  "  Sasha's  eyes  flashed  joyously 
and  tenderly.  Rybin's  dark,  tall  figure  loomed  up,  the 
bronzed,  firm  face  of  her  son  smiled.  Nikolay  blinked  in 

479 


MOTHER 

embarrassment;    and    suddenly    everything    was    stirred 
with  a  deep  but  light  breath. 

"  Nikolay  was  right,"  said  Liudmila,  entering  again. 
"  He  must  surely  have  been  arrested.  I  sent  the  boy 
there,  as  you  told  me  to.  He  said  policemen  are  hiding 
in  the  yard ;  he  did  not  see  the  house  porter ;  but  he  saw 
the  policeman  who  was  hiding  behind  the  gates.  And 
spies  are  sauntering  about ;  the  boy  knows  them." 

"  So  ?  "  The  mother  nodded  her  head.  "  Ah,  poor 
fellow !  " 

And  she  sighed,  but  without  sadness,  and  was  quietly 
surprised  at  herself. 

"  Lately  he's  been  reading  a  great  deal  to  the  city 
workingmen ;  and  in  general  it  was  time  for  him  to  dis- 
appear," Liudmila  said  with  a  frown.  "  The  comrades 
told  him  to  go,  but  he  didn't  obey  them.  I  think  that 
in  such  cases  you  must  compel  and  not  try  to  per- 
suade." 

A  dark-haired,  red-faced  boy  with  beautiful  eyes  and 
a  hooked  nose  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

*'  Shall  I  bring  in  the  samoVkr  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  ring- 
ing voice. 

"  Yes,  please,  Seryozha.  This  is  my  pupil ;  have  you 
never  met  him  before  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  used  to  go  to  Nikolay  sometimes ;  I  sent  him." 

Liudmila  seemed  to  the  mother  to  be  different  to-day 
— simpler  and  nearer  to  her.  In  the  supple  swaying  of 
her  stately  figure  there  was  much  beauty  and  power; 
her  sternness  had  mildened ;  the  circles  under  her  eyes 
had  grown  larger  during  the  night,  her  face  paler  and 
leaner ;  her  large  eyes  had  deepened.  One  perceived  a 
strained  exertion  in  her,  a  tightly  drawn  chord  in  her  soul. 

The  boy  brought  in  the  samovar. 
480 


MOTHER 

"  Let  me  introduce  you :  Seryozha — Pelagueya  Nil- 
ovna,  the  mother  of  the  workingman  whom  they  sentenced 
yesterday." 

Seryozha  bowed  silently  and  pressed  the  mother's 
hand.  Then  he  brought  in  bread,  and  sat  down  to  the 
table.  Liudmila  persuaded  the  mother  not  to  go  home 
until  they  found  out  whom  the  police  were  waiting  for 
there. 

"  Maybe  they  are  waiting  for  you.  I'm  sure  they'll 
examine  you." 

"  Let  them.  And  if  they  arrest  me,  no  great  harm. 
Only  I'd  like  to  have  Pasha's  speech  sent  off." 

"  It's  already  in  type.  To-morrow  it'll  be  possible  to 
have  it  for  the  city  and  the  suburb.  We'll  have  some  for 
the  districts,  too.    Do  you  know  Natasha  ?  " 

"Of  course!" 

"  Then  take  it  to  her." 

The  boy  read  the  newspaper,  and  seemed  not  to  be 
listening  to  the  conversation ;  but  at  times  his  eyes  looked 
from  the  pages  of  the  newspaper  into  the  face  of  the 
mother ;  and  when  she  met  their  animated  glance  she  felt 
pleased  and  smiled.  She  reproached  herself  for  these 
smiles.  Liudmila  again  mentioned  Nikolay  without  any 
expression  of  regret  for  his  arrest  and,  to  the  mother,  it 
seemed  in  perfectly  natural  tones.  The  time  passed  more 
quickly  than  on  the  other  days.  When  they  had  done 
drinking  tea  it  was  already  near  midday. 

"  However ! "  exclaimed  Liudmila,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  knock  at  the  door  was  heard.  The  boy  rose, 
looked  inquiringly  at  Liudmila^  prettily  screwing  up  his 
eyes. 

"  Open  the  door,  Seryozha.  Who  do  you  suppose  it 
is  ?  "  And  with  a  composed  gesture  she  let  her  hand  into 
the  pocket  of  the  skirt,  saying  to  the  mother :    "  If  it  is 

481 


MOTHER 

the  gendarmes,  you,  Pelagueya  Nilovna,  stand  here  in 
this  corner,  and  you,  Ser " 

"  I  know.  The  dark  passage,"  the  Httle  boy  answered 
softly,  disappearing. 

The  mother  smiled.  These  preparations  did  not  dis- 
turb her ;  she  had  no  premonition  of  a  misfortune. 

The  little  physician  walked  in.    He  quickly  said: 

"  First  of  all,  Nikolay  is  arrested.  Aha !  You  here, 
Nilovna  ?  They're  interested  in  you,  too.  Weren't  you 
there  when  he  was  arrested  ?  " 

''  He  packed  me  off,  and  told  me  to  come  here." 

"  Hm !  I  don't  think  it  will  be  of  any  use  to  you. 
Secondly,  last  night  several  young  people  made  about 
five  hundred  hektograph  copies  of  Pavel's  speech — not 
badly  done,  plain  and  clear.  They  want  to  scatter  them 
throughout  the  city  at  night.  I'm  against  it.  Printed 
sheets  are  better  for  the  city,  and  the  hektograph  copies 
ought  to  be  sent  off  somewhere." 

"  Here,  Pll  carry  them  to  Natasha!  "  the  mother  ex- 
claimed animatedly.    "  Give  them  to  me." 

She  was  seized  with  a  great  desire  to  sow  them  broad- 
cast, to  spread  Pavel's  speech  as  soon  as  possible.  She 
would  have  bestrewn  the  whole  earth  with  the  words  of 
her  son,  and  she  looked  into  the  doctor's  face  with  eyes 
ready  to  beg. 

**  The  devil  knows  whether  at  this  time  you  ought  to 
take  up  this  matter,"  the  physician  said  irresolutely,  and 
took  out  his  watch.  "  It's  now  twelve  minutes  of  twelve. 
The  train  leaves  at  2.05,  arrives  there  5.15.  You'll  get 
there  in  the  evening,  but  not  sufficiently  late — and  that's 
not  the  point !  " 

"  That's  not  the  point,"  repeated  Liudmila,  frowning. 

"  What  then  ? "  asked  the  mother,  drawing  up  to 
them.  **  The  point  is  to  do  it  well ;  and  I'll  do  it  all  right." 

482 


MOTHER 

Liudmila  looked  ifixedly  at  her,  and  chafing  her  fore- 
head, remarked: 

*'  It's  dangerous  for  you." 

"  Why  ?  "  the  mother  challenged  hotly. 

"  That's  why !  "  said  the  physician  quickly  and  brok- 
enly. "  You  disappeared  from  home  an  hour  before 
Nikolay's  arrest.  You  went  away  to  the  mill,  where  you 
are  known  as  the  teacher's  aunt;  after  your  arrival  at 
the  mill  the  naughty  leaflets  appear.  All  this  will  tie 
itself  into  a  noose  around  your  neck." 

"  They  won't  notice  me  there,"  the  mother  assured 
them,  warming  to  her  desire.  "  When  I  return  they'll 
arrest  me,  and  ask  me  where  I  was.'*  After  a  moment's 
pause  she  exclaimed :  "  I  know  what  I'll  say.  From 
there  I'll  go  straight  to  the  suburb ;  I  have  a  friend  there 
— Sizov.  So  I'll  say  that  I  went  there  straight  from  the 
trial ;  grief  took  me  there ;  and  he,  too,  had  the  same  mis- 
fortune, his  nephew  was  sentenced ;  and  I  spent  the  whole 
time  with  him.    He'll  uphold  me,  too.    Do  you  see  ?  " 

The  mother  was  aware  that  they  were  succumbing  to 
the  strength  of  her  desire,  and  strove  to  induce  them  to 
give  in  as  quickly  as  possible.  She  spoke  more  and  more 
persistently,  joy  arising  within  her.    And  they  yielded. 

"  Well,  go,"  the  physician  reluctantly  assented. 

Liudmila  was  silent,  pacing  thoughtfully  up  and  down 
the  room.  Her  face  clouded  over  and  her  cheeks  fell  in. 
The  muscles  of  her  neck  stretched  noticeably  as  if  her 
head  had  suddenly  grown  heavy ;  it  involuntarily  dropped 
on  her  breast.  The  mother  observed  this.  The  physi- 
cian's reluctant  assent  forced  a  sigh  from  her. 

"  You  all  take  care  of  me,"  the  mother  said,  smiling. 
"  You  don't  take  care  of  yourselves."  And  the  wave  of 
joy  mounted  higher  and  higher. 

"  It  isn't  true.  We  look  out  for  ourselves.  We  ought 
483 


MOTHBR 

to ;  and  we  very  much  upbraid  those  who  uselessly  waste 
their  power.  Ye-es.  Now,  this  is  the  way  you  are  to  do. 
You  will  receive  the  speeches  at  the  station."  He  ex- 
plained to  her  how  the  matter  would  be  arranged;  then 
looking  into  her  face,  he  said :  "  Well,  I  wish  you  suc- 
cess. You're  happy,  aren't  you  ?  "  And  he  walked  away 
still  gloomy  and  dissatisfied.  When  the  door  closed  be- 
hind him  Liudmila  walked  up  to  the  mother,  smiling 
quietly. 

"  You're  a  fine  woman !  I  understand  you."  Taking 
her  by  the  arm,  she  again  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  I  have  a  son,  too.  He's  already  thirteen  years  old ;  but 
he  lives  with  his  father.  My  husband  is  an  assistant 
prosecuting  attorney.  Maybe  he's  already  prosecuting 
attorney.  And  the  boy's  with  him.  What  is  he  going  to 
be  ?  I  often  think."  Her  humid,  powerful  voice  trembled. 
Then  her  speech  flowed  on  again  thoughtfully  and  qui- 
etly. "  He's  being  brought  up  by  a  professed  enemy  of 
those  people  who  are  near  me,  whom  I  regard  as  the  best 
people  on  earth;  and  maybe  the  boy  will  grow  up  to  be 
my  enemy.  He  cannot  live  with  me;  I  live  under  a 
strange  name.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  eight  years. 
That's  a  long  time — eight  years !  " 

Stopping  at  the  window,  she  looked  up  at  the  pale, 
bleak  sky,  and  continued:  "  If  he  were  with  me  I  would 
be  stronger ;  I  would  not  have  this  wound  in  my  heart, 
the  wound  that  always  pains.  And  even  if  he  were  dead 
it  would  be  easier  for  me — "  She  paused  again,  and 
added  more  firmly  and  loudly :  "  Then  I  would  know  he's 
merely  dead,  but  not  an  enemy  of  that  which  is  higher 
than  the  feeling  of  a  mother,  dearer  and  more  necessary 
than  life." 

"  My  darling,"  said  the  mother  quietly,  feeling  as  if 
something  powerful  were  burning  her  heart. 

484 


MOTHER 

"Yes,  you  are  happy,"  Liudmila  said  with  a  smile. 
"  It's  magnificent — the  mother  and  the  son  side  by  side. 
It's  rare !  " 

The  mother  unexpectedly  to  herself  exclaimed: 

"  Yes,  it  is  good !  "  and  as  if  disclosing  a  secret,  she 
continued  in  a  lowered  voice :  "  It  is  another  life.  All 
of  you — Nikolay  Ivanovich,  all  the  people  of  the  cause 
of  truth — are  also  side  by  side.  Suddenly  people  have 
become  kin — I  understand  all — the  words  I  don't  under- 
stand ;  but  everything  else  I  understand,  everything !  " 

"  That's  how  it  is,"  Liudmila  said.    "  That's  how." 

The  mother  put  her  hand  on  Liudmila's  breast,  press- 
ing her ;  she  spoke  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  if  herself  med- 
itating upon  the  words  she  spoke. 

"  Children  go  through  the  world ;  that's  what  I  under- 
stand ;  children  go  into  the  world,  over  all  the  earth,  from 
everywhere  toward  one  thing.  The  best  hearts  go ;  peo- 
ple of  honest  minds;  they  relentlessly  attack  all  evil,  all 
darkness.  They  go,  they  trample  falsehood  with  heavy 
feet,  understanding  everything,  justifying  everybody — 
justifying  everybody,  they  go.  Young,  strong,  they  carry 
their  power,  their  invincible  power,  all  toward  one  thing 
— toward  justice.  They  go  to  conquer  all  human  misery, 
they  arm  themselves  to  wipe  away  misfortune  from  the 
face  of  the  earth ;  they  go  to  subdue  what  is  monstrous, 
and  they  will  subdue  it.  We  will  kindle  a  new  sun,  some- 
body told  me;  and  they  will  kindle  it.  We  will  create 
one  heart  in  life,  we  will  unite  all  the  severed  hearts  into 
one — and  they  will  unite  them.  We  will  cleanse  the 
whole  of  life — and  they  will  cleanse  it." 

She  waved  her  hand  toward  the  sky. 

''  There's  the  sun-" 

A.nd  she  struck  her  bosom. 

"*  Here  the  most  glorious  heavenly  sun  of  human  hap- 
485 


MOTHER 

piness  will  be  kindled,  and  it  will  light  up  the  earth  for- 
ever— the  whole  of  it,  and  all  that  live  upon  it — with 
the  light  of  love,  the  love  of  every  man  toward  all,  and 
toward  everything." 

The  words  of  forgotten  prayers  recurred  to  her  mind, 
inspiring  a  new  faith.  She  threw  them  from  her  heart 
like  sparks. 

"  The  children  walking  along  the  road  of  truth  and  rea- 
son carry  love  to  all ;  and  they  clothe  everything  in  new 
skies ;  they  illumine  everything  with  an  incorruptible  fire 
issuing  from  the  depths  of  the  soul.  Thus,  a  new  life 
comes  into  being,  born  of  the  children's  love  for  the 
entire  world ;  and  who  will  extinguish  this  love — who  ? 
What  power  is  higher  than  this?  Who  will  subdue  it? 
The  earth  has  brought  it  forth;  and  all  life  desires  its 
victory  —  all  Hfe.  Shed  rivers  of  blood,  nay,  seas  of 
blood,  you'll  never  extinguish  it." 

She  shook  herself  away  from  Liudmila,  fatigued  by 
her  exaltation,  and  sat  down,  breathing  heavily.  Liud- 
mila also  withdrew  from  her,  noiselessly,  carefully,  as  if 
afraid  of  destroying  something.  With  supple  movement 
she  walked  about  the  room  and  looked  in  front  of  her 
with  the  deep  gaze  of  her  dim  eyes.  She  seemed  still 
taller,  straighter,  and  thinner;  her  lean,  stern  face  wore 
a  concentrated  expression,  and  her  lips  were  nervously 
compressed.  The  stillness  in  the  room  soon  calmed  the 
mother,  and  noticing  Liudmila's  mood  she  asked  guiltily 
and  softly: 

"Maybe  I  said  something  that  wasn't  quite  right?" 

Liudmila  quickly  turned  around  and  looked  at  her  as 
if  in  fright. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  said  rapidly,  stretching  out  her 
hand  to  the  mother  as  if  desiring  to  arrest  something. 
"  But  we'll  not  speak  about  it  any  more.     Let  it  remain 

486 


MOTHER 

as  it  was  said ;  let  it  remain.    Yes."    And  in  a  calmer  tone 
she  continued :  "  It's  time  for  you  to  start  soon ;  it's  far." 

"  Yes,  presently.  I'm  glad !  Oh,  how  glad  I  am !  If 
you  only  knew!  I'm  going  to  carry  the  word  of  my 
son,  the  word  of  my  blood.  Why,  it's  like  one's  own 
soul ! " 

She  smiled;  but  her  smile  did  not  find  a  clear 
reflection  in  the  face  of  Liudmila.  The  mother  felt  that 
Liudmila  chilled  her  joy  by  her  restraint;  and  the  stub- 
born desire  suddenly  arose  in  her  to  pour  into  that  obsti- 
nate soul  enveloped  in  misery  her  own  fire,  to  burn  her, 
too,  let  her,  too,  sound  in  unison  with  her  own  heart 
full  of  joy.  She  took  Liudmila's  hands  and  pressed  them 
powerfully. 

"  My  dear,  how  good  it  is  when  you  know  that  light 
for  all  the  people  already  exists  in  life,  and  that  there  will 
be  a  time  when  they  will  begin  to  see  it,  when  they  will 
bathe  their  souls  in  it,  and  all,  all,  will  take  fire  in  its 
unquenchable  flames." 

Her  good,  large  face  quivered;  her  eyes  smiled  radi- 
antly ;  and  her  eyebrows  trembled  over  them  as  if  pinion- 
ing their  flash.  The  great  thoughts  intoxicated  her ;  she 
put  into  them  everything  that  burned  her  heart,  every- 
thing she  had  lived  through;  and  she  compressed  the 
thoughts  into  firm,  capacious  crystals  of  luminous  words. 
They  grew  up  ever  more  powerful  in  the  autumn  heart, 
illuminated  by  the  creative  force  of  the  spring  sun;  they 
blossomed  and  reddened  in  it  ever  more  brightly. 

"  Why,  this  is  like  a  new  god  that's  born  to  us,  the 
people.  Everything  for  all ;  all  for  everything ;  the  whole 
of  life  in  one,  and  the  whole  of  life  for  everyone,  and 
everyone  for  the  whole  of  life !  Thus  I  understand  all  of 
you ;  it  is  for  this  that  you  are  on  this  earth,  I  see.  You 
are  in  truth  comrades  all,  kinsmen  all,  for  you  are  all 

487 


MOTHER 

children  of  one  mother,  of  truth.  Truth  has  brought  you 
forth ;  and  by  her  power  you  Hve !  " 

Again  overcome  by  the  wave  of  agitation,  she  stopped, 
fetched  breath,  and  spread  out  her  arms  as  if  for  an 
embrace. 

"  And  if  I  pronounce  to  myself  that  word  '  comrades  ' 
then  I  hear  with  my  heart — they  are  going !  They  are 
going  from  everywhere,  the  great  multitude,  all  to  one 
thing.  I  hear  such  a  roaring,  resonant  and  joyous,  like 
the  festive  peal  of  the  bells  of  all  the  churches  of  the 
world." 

She  had  arrived  at  what  she  desired.  Liudmila's  face 
flashed  in  amazement.  Her  lips  quivered ;  and  one  after 
the  other  large  transparent  tears  dropped  from  her  dull 
eyes  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 

The  mother  embraced  her  vigorously  and  laughed 
softly,  lightly  taking  pride  in  the  victory  of  her  heart. 
When  they  took  leave  of  each  other  Liudmila  looked  into 
the  mother's  face,  and  asked  her  softly : 

"  Do  you  know  that  it  is  well  with  you  ?  "  x\nd  her- 
self supplied  the  answer :  "  Very  well.  Like  a  morning 
on  a  high  mountain." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

N  the  street  the  frozen  atmosphere  enveloped 
her  body  invigoratingly,  penetrated  into  her 
throat,  tickled  her  nose,  and  for  a  second 
suppressed  the  breathing  in  her  bosom. 
The  mother  stopped  and  looked  around. 
Near  to  her,  at  the  corner  of  the  empty  street,  stood  a 
cabman  in  a  shaggy  hat ;  at  a  slight  distance  a  man  was 
walking,  bent,  his  head  sunk  in  his  shoulders:  and  in 
front  of  him  a  soldier  was  running  in  a  jump,  rubbing  his 
ears. 

"  The  soldier  must  have  been  sent  to  the  store,"  she 
thought,  and  walked  off  listening  with  satisfaction  to  the 
youthful  crunching  of  the  snow  under  her  feet.  She  ar- 
rived at  the  station  early;  her  train  was  not  yet  ready; 
but  in  the  dirty  waiting  room  of  the  third  class,  blackened 
with  smoke,  there  were  numerous  people  already.  The 
cold  drove  in  the  railroad  workmen;  cabmen  and  some 
poorly  dressed,  homeless  people  came  in  to  warm  them- 
selves ;  there  were  passengers,  also  a  few  peasants,  a  stout 
merchant  in  a  raccoon  overcoat,  a  priest  and  his  daugh- 
ter, a  pockmarked  girl,  some  five  soldiers,  and  bustling 
tradesmen.  The  men  smoked,  talked,  drank  tea  and 
whisky  at  the  buffet;  some  one  laughed  boisterously;  a 
wave  of  smoke  was  wafted  overhead ;  the  door  squeaked 
as  it  opened,  the  windows  rattled  when  the  door  was 
jammed  to ;  the  odor  of  tobacco,  machine  oil,  and  salt 
fish  thickly  beat  into  the  nostrils 

489 


MOTHER 

The  mother  sat  near  the  entrance  and  waited.  When 
the  door  opened  a  whiff  of  fresh  air  struck  her,  which 
was  pleasant  to  her,  and  she  took  in  deep  breaths.  Heav- 
ily dressed  people  came  in  with  bundles  in  their  hands ; 
they  clumsily  pushed  through  the  door,  swore,  mumbled, 
threw  their  things  on  the  bench  or  on  the  floor,  shook  off 
the  dry  rime  from  the  collars  of  their  overcoats  and  their 
sleeves  and  wiped  it  off  their  beards  and  mustaches,  all 
the  time  puffing  and  blowing. 

A  young  man  entered  with  a  yellow  valise  in  his  hand, 
quickly  looked  around,  and  walked  straight  to  the  mother. 

"  To  Moscow,  to  your  niece  ? "  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,  to  Tanya." 

"  Very  well." 

He  put  the  valise  on  the  bench  near  her,  quickly 
whipped  out  a  cigarette,  lighted  it,  and  raising  his  hat, 
silently  walked  toward  the  other  door.  The  mother 
stroked  the  cold  skin  of  the  valise,  leaned  her  elbows  on 
it,  and,  satisfied,  began  again  to  look  around  at  the  people. 
In  a  few  moments  she  arose  and  walked  over  to  the  other 
bench,  nearer  to  the  exit  to  the  platform.  She  held  the 
valise  lightly  in  her  hand;  it  was  not  large,  and  she 
walked  with  raised  head,  scanning  the  faces  that  flashed 
before  her. 

One  man  in  a  short  overcoat  and  its  collar  raised 
jostled  against  her  and  jumped  back,  silently  waving  his 
hand  toward  his  head.  Something  familiar  about  him 
struck  her ;  she  glanced  around  and  saw  that  he  was  look- 
ing at  her  with  one  eye  gleaming  out  of  his  collar.  This 
attentive  eye  pricked  her ;  the  hand  in  which  she  held  the 
valise  trembled ;  she  felt  a  dull  pain  in  her  shoulder,  and 
the  load  suddenly  grew  heavy. 

*'  I've  seen  him  somewhere,"  she  thought,  and  with 
490 


MOTHER 

the  thought  suppressed  the  unpleasant,  confused  feeling 
in  her  breast.  She  would  not  permit  herself  to  define  the 
cold  sensation  that  already  pressed  her  heart  quietly  but 
powerfully.  It  grew  and  rose  in  her  throat,  filling  her 
mouth  with  a  dry,  bitter  taste,  and  compelling  her  to  turn 
around  and  look  once  more.  As  she  turned  he  carefully 
shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  standing  on  the  same 
spot;  it  seemed  he  wanted  something,  but  could  not  de- 
cide what.  His  right  hand  was  thrust  between  the  but- 
tons of  his  coat,  the  other  he  kept  in  his  pocket.  On 
account  of  this  the  right  shoulder  seemed  higher  than 
the  left. 

Without  hastening,  she  walked  to  the  bench  and  sat 
down  carefully,  slowly,  as  if  afraid  of  tearing  something 
in  herself  or  on  herself.  Her  memory,  aroused  by  a 
sharp  premonition  of  misfortune,  quickly  presented  this 
man  twice  to  her  imagination — once  in  the  field  outside 
the  city,  after  the  escape  of  Rybin ;  a  second  time  in  the 
evening  in  the  court.  There  at  his  side  stood  the  con- 
stable to  whom  she  had  pointed  out  the  false  way  taken 
by  Rybin.  They  knew  her ;  they  were  tracking  her — this 
was  evident. 

"  Am  I  caught  ? "  she  asked,  and  in  the  following 
second  answered  herself,  starting :  "  Maybe  there  is 
still — "  and  immediately  forcing  herself  with  a  great  ef- 
fort, she  said  sternly :   "I'm  caught.    No  use." 

She  looked  around,  and  her  thoughts  flashed  up  in 
sparks  and  expired  in  her  brain  one  after  the  other. 

"  Leave  the  valise  ?    Go  away  ?  " 

But  at  the  same  time  another  spark  darted  up  more 
glaringly :  "  How  much  will  be  lost  ?  Drop  the  son's 
word  in  such  hands  ?  " 

She  pressed  the  valise  to  herself  trembling.    "  And  to 
go  away  with  it  ?    Where  ?    To  run  ?  " 
32  491 


MOTHER 

These  thoughts  seemed  to  her  those  of  a  stranger, 
somebody  from  the  outside,  who  was  pushing  them  on 
her  by  main  force.  They  burned  her,  and  their  burns 
chopped  her  brain  painfully,  lashed  her  heart  like  fiery 
whipcords.  They  were  an  insult  to  the  mother ;  they 
seemed  to  be  driving  her  away  from  her  own  self,  from 
Pavel,  and  everything  which  had  grown  to  her  heart. 
She  felt  that  a  stubborn,  hostile  force  oppressed  her, 
squeezed  her  shoulder  and  breast,  lowered  her  stature, 
plunging  her  into  a  fatal  fear.  The  veins  on  her  temples 
began  to  pulsate  vigorously,  and  the  roots  of  her  hair 
grew  warm. 

Then  with  one  great  and  sharp  effort  of  her  heart, 
which  seemed  to  shake  her  entire  being,  she  quenched  all 
these  cunning,  petty,  feeble  little  fires,  saying  sternly  to 
herself:   "Enough!" 

She  at  once  began  to  feel  better,  and  she  grew 
strengthened  altogether,  adding :  "  Don't  disgrace  your 
son.     Nobody's  afraid." 

Several  seconds  of  wavering  seemed  to  have  the  effect 
of  joining  everything  in  her;  her  heart  began  to  beat 
calmly. 

"  What's  going  to  happen  now  ?  How  will  they  go 
about  it  with  me  ?  "  she  thought,  her  senses  strung  to  a 
keener  observation. 

The  spy  called  a  station  guard,  and  whispered  some- 
thing to  him,  directing  his  look  toward  her.  The  guard 
glanced  at  him  and  moved  back.  Another  guard  came, 
listened,  grinned,  and  lowered  his  brows.  He  was  an  old 
man,  coarse-built,  gray,  unshaven.  He  nodded  his  head 
to  the  spy,  and  walked  up  to  the  bench  where  the  mother 
sat.    The  spy  quickly  disappeared. 

The  old  man  strode  leisurely  toward  the  mother,  in- 
tently thrusting  his  angry  eyes   into  the  mother's   face. 

492 


MOTHER 

She  sat  farther  back  on  the  bench,  trembling.  "  If  they 
only  don't  beat  me,  if  they  only  don't  beat  me !  " 

He  stopped  at  her  side ;  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  moderated 
voice. 

"  Nothing." 

*^Hm!    Thief!    So  old  and  yet " 

It  seemed  to  her  that  his  words  struck  her  face  once, 
twice,  rough  and  hoarse ;  they  wounded  her,  as  if  they 
tore  her  cheeks,  ripped  out  her  eyes. 

"  I'm  not  a  thief !  You  lie !  "  she  shouted  with  all  the 
power  of  her  chest;  and  everything  before  her  jumped 
and  began  to  whirl  in  a  whirlwind  of  revolt,  intoxicating 
her  heart  with  the  bitterness  of  insult.  She  jerked  the 
valise,  and  it  opened. 

"  Look !  look !  All  you  people !  "  she  shouted,  stand- 
ing up  and  waving  the  bundle  of  the  proclamations  she 
had  quickly  seized  over  her  head.  Through  the  noise  in 
her  ears  she  heard  the  exclamations  of  the  people  who 
came  running  up,  and  she  saw  them  pouring  in  quickly 
from  all  directions. 

^'What  is  it?" 

*^  There's  a  spy!" 

''What's  the  matter?" 

"  She's  a  thief,  they  say ! 

"She?" 

"Would  a  thief  shout?" 

"  Such  a  respectable  one !    My,  my,  my !  " 

"  Whom  did  they  catch  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  a  thief,"  said  the  mother  in  a  full  voice, 
somewhat  calmed  at  the  sight  of  the  people  who  pressed 
closely  upon  her  from  all  sides. 

"  Yesterday  they  tried  the  political  prisoners ;  my  son 
was  one  of  them,  Vlasov.     He  made  a  speech.     Here  it 

493 


MOTHER 

is.  Vm  carrying  it  to  the  people  in  order  that  they  should 
read,  think  about  the  truth." 

One  paper  was  carefully  pulled  from  her  hands.  She 
waved  the  papers  in  the  air  and  flung  them  into  the 
crowd. 

**  She  won't  get  any  praise  for  that,  either !  "  some- 
body exclaimed  in  a  frightened  voice. 

"  Whee-ee-w !  "  was  the  response. 

The  mother  saw  that  the  papers  were  being  snatched 
up,  were  being  hidden  in  breasts  and  pockets.  This  again 
put  her  firmly  on  her  feet ;  more  composed  than  forceful, 
straining  herself  to  her  utmost,  and  feeling  how  agitated 
pride  grew  in  her  raising  her  high  above  the  people,  how 
subdued  joy  flamed  up  in  her,  she  spoke,  snatching  bun- 
dles of  papers  from  the  valise  and  throwing  them  right 
and  left  into  some  person's  quick,  greedy  hands. 

*'  For  this  they  sentenced  my  son  and  all  with  him. 
Do  you  know?  I  will  tell  you,  and  you  believe  the  heart 
of  a  mother ;  believe  her  gray  hair.  Yesterday  they  sen- 
tenced them  because  they  carried  to  you,  to  all  the  people, 
the  honest,  sacred  truth.    How  do  you  live  ?  " 

The  crowd  grew  silent  in  amazement,  and  noiselessly 
increased  in  size,  pressing  closer  and  closer  together, 
surrounding  the  woman  with  a  ring  of  living  bodies. 

"  Poverty,  hunger,  and  sickness — that's  what  work 
gives  to  the  poor  people.  This  order  of  things  pushes  us 
to  theft  and  to  corruption ;  and  over  us,  satiated  and 
calm,  live  the  rich.  In  order  that  we  should  obey  the 
police,  the  authorities,  the  soldiers,  all  are  in  their  hands, 
all  are  against  us,  everything  is  against  us.  We  perish  all 
our  lives  day  after  day  in  toil,  always  in  filth,  in  deceit. 
And  others  enjoy  themselves  and  gormandize  themselves 
with  our  labor ;  and  they  hold  us  like  dogs  on  chains,  in 
ignorance.     We  know  nothing,  and  in  terror  we  fear 

494 


MOTHER 

everything.  Our  life  is  night,  a  dark  night;  it  is  a  ter- 
rible dream.  They  have  poisoned  us  with  strong  intoxi- 
cating poison,  and  they  drink  our  blood.  They  glut 
themselves  to  corpulence,  to  vomiting — the  servants  of 
the  devil  of  greed.    Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  It's  so !  "  came  a  dull  answer. 

Back  of  the  crowd  the  mother  noticed  the  spy  and 
two  gendarmes.  She  hastened  to  give  away  the  last 
bundles ;  but  when  her  hand  let  itself  down  into  the  valise 
it  met  another  strange  hand. 

"  Take  it,  take  it  all ! "  she  said,  bending  down. 

A  dirty  face  raised  itself  to  hers,  and  a  low  whisper 
reached  her : 

"  Whom  shall  I  tell  ?    Whom  inform  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  In  order  to  change  this  life,  in  order  to  free  all  the 
people,  to  raise  them  from  the  dead,  as  I  have  been  raised, 
some  persons  have  already  come  who  secretly  saw  the 
truth  in  life ;  secretly,  because,  you  know,  no  one  can  say 
the  truth  aloud.  They  hunt  you  down,  they  stifle  you; 
they  make  you  rot  in  prison,  they  mutilate  you.  Wealth 
is  a  force,  not  a  friend  to  truth.  Thus  far  truth  is  the 
sworn  enemy  to  the  power  of  the  rich,  an  irreconcilable 
enemy  forever !  Our  children  are  carrying  the  truth  into 
the  world.  Bright  people,  clean  people  are  carrying  it 
to  you.  Thus  far  there  are  few  of  them ;  they  are  not 
powerful ;  but  they  grow  in  number  every  day.  They  put 
their  young  hearts  into  free  truth,  they  are  making  it  an 
invincible  power.  Along  the  route  of  their  hearts  it  will 
enter  into  our  hard  life;  it  will  warm  us,  enliven  us, 
emancipate  us  from  the  oppression  of  the  rich  and  from 
all  who  have  sold  their  souls.    Believe  this." 

"  Out  of  the  way  here !  "  shouted  the  gendarmes, 
pushing  the  people.     They  gave  way  to  the  jostling  un- 

495 


MOTHMR 

willingly,  pressed  the  gendarmes  with  their  mass,  hin- 
dered them  perhaps  without  desiring  to  do  so.  The  gray- 
haired  woman  with  the  large,  honest  eyes  in  her  kind 
face  attracted  them  powerfully ;  and  those  whom  life  held 
asunder,  whom  it  tore  from  one  another,  now  blended 
into  a  whole,  warmed  by  the  fire  of  the  fearless  words 
which,  perhaps,  they  had  long  been  seeking  and  thirsting 
for  in  their  hearts — their  hearts  insulted  and  revolted  by 
the  injustice  of  their  severe  life.  Those  who  were  near 
stood  in  silence.  The  mother  saw  their  gloomy  faces, 
their  frowning  brows,  their  eyes,  and  felt  their  warm 
breath  on  her  face. 

"  Get  up  Dn  the  bench,"  they  said. 

*'  I'll  be  arrested  immediately.— It's  not  necessary." 

**  Speak  quicker !     They're  coming !  " 

"  Go  to  meet  the  honest  people.  Seek  those  who  ad- 
vise all  the  poor  disinherited.  Don't  be  reconciled,  com- 
rades, don't!  Don't  yield  to  the  power  of  the  powerful. 
Arise,  you  working  people !  you  are  the  masters  of  life ! 
All  live  by  your  labor;  and  only  for  your  labor  do  they 
untie  your  hands.  Behold !  you  are  bound,  and  they  have 
killed,  robbed  your  soul.  Unite  with  your  heart  and  your 
mind  into  one  power.  It  will  overcome  everything.  You 
have  no  friends  except  yourselves.  That's  what  their 
only  friends  say  to  the  working  people,  their  friends  who 
go  to  them  and  perish  on  the  road  to  prison.  Not  so 
would  dishonest  people  speak,  not  so  deceivers." 

"  Out  of  the  way !  Disperse !  "  the  shouts  of  the  gen- 
darmes came  nearer  and  nearer.  There  were  more  of 
them  already ;  they  pushed  more  forcibly ;  and  the  people 
in  front  of  the  mother  swayed,  catching  hold  of  one 
another. 

**  Is  that  all  you  have  in  the  valise?  "  whispered  some- 
body. 

496 


MOTHER 

"  Take  it !  Take  all !  "  said  the  mother  aloud,  feeling 
that  the  words  disposed  themselves  into  a  song  in  her 
breast,  and  noticing  with  pain  that  her  voice  did  not  hold 
out,  that  it  was  hoarse,  trembled,  and  broke. 

"  The  word  of  my  son  is  the  honest  word  of  a  work- 
ingman,  of  an  unsold  soul.  You  will  recognize  its  incor- 
ruptibility by  its  boldness.  It  is  fearless,  and  if  neces- 
sary it  goes  even  against  itself  to  meet  the  truth.  It  goes 
to  you,  working  people,  incorruptible,  wise,  fearless.  Re- 
ceive it  with  an  open  heart,  feed  on  it ;  it  will  give  you  the 
power  to  understand  everything,  to  fight  against  every- 
thing for  the  truth,  for  the  freedom  of  mankind.  Receive 
it,  believe  it,  go  with  it  toward  the  happiness  of  all  the 
people,  to  a  new  life  with  great  joy !  " 

She  received  a  blow  on  the  chest ;  she  staggered  and 
fell  on  the  bench.  The  gendarmes'  hands  darted  over  the 
heads  of  the  people,  and  seizing  collars  and  shoulders, 
threw  them  aside,  tore  off  hats,  flung  them  far  away. 
Everything  grew  dark  and  began  to  whirl  before  the  eyes 
of  the  mother.  But  overcoming  her  fatigue,  she  again 
shouted  with  the  remnants  of  her  power ; 

"  People,  gather  up  your  forces  into  one  single 
force !  " 

A  large  gendarme  caught  her  collar  with  his  red  hand 
and  shook  her. 

"  Keep  quiet !  " 

The  nape  of  her  neck  struck  the  wall;  her  heart 
was  enveloped  for  a  second  in  the  stifling  smoke  of 
terror;  but  it  blazed  forth  again  clearly,  dispelling  the 
smoke. 

"  Go !  "  said  the  gendarme. 

"  Fear  nothing !  There  are  no  tortures  worse  than 
those  which  you  endure  all  your  lives !  " 

"  Silence,  I  say !  "  The  gendarme  took  her  by  the 
497 


MOTHER 

arm  and  pulled  her ;  another  seized  her  by  the  other  arm, 
and  taking  long  steps,  they  led  her  away. 

''  There  are  no  tortures  more  bitter  than  those  which 
quietly  gnaw  at  your  heart  every  day,  waste  your  breast, 
and  drain  your  power." 

The  spy  came  running  up,  and  shaking  his  fist  in  her 
face,  shouted : 

"  Silence,  you  old  hag !  " 

Her  eyes  widened,  sparkled ;  her  jaws  quivered. 
Planting  her  feet  firmly  on  the  slippery  stones  of  the 
floor,  she  shouted,  gathering  the  last  remnants  of  her 
strength : 

"  Thejresuscitated  soul  they  will  not  kill.'' 

"  Dogl  " 

The'^spy  struck  her  face  with  a  short  swing  of  his 
hand. 

Something  black  and  red  blinded  her  eyes  for  a  sec- 
ond.   The  salty  taste  of  blood  filled  her  mouth. 

A  clear  outburst  of  shouts  animated  her : 

"  Don't  dare  to  beat  her !  " 

"  Boys !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  you  scoundrel !  " 

"  Give  it  to  him !  " 

"  They  will  not  drown  reason  m  blood ;  they  will  not 
extinguish  its  truth !  " 

She  was  pushed  in  the  neck  and  the  back,  beaten 
about  the  shoulders,  on  the  head.  Everything  began  to 
turn  around,  grow  giddy  in  a  dark  whirlwind  of  shouts, 
howls,  whistles.  Something  thick  and  deafening  crept 
into  her  ear,  beat  in  her  throat,  choked  her.  The  floor 
under  her  feet  began  to  shake,  giving  way.  Her  legs 
bent,  her  body  trembled,  burned  with  pain,  grew  heavy, 
and  staggered  powerless.     But  her  eyes  were  not  extin- 

498 


MOTHER 

guished,  and  they  saw  many  other  eyes  which  flashed  and 
gleamed  with  the  bold  sharp  fire  known  to  her,  with  the 
fire  dear  to  her  heart. 

She  was  pushed  somewhere  into  a  door. 

She  snatched  her  hand  away  from  the  gendarmes  and 
caught  hold  of  the  doorpost. 

"  You  will  not  drown  the  truth  in  seas  of  blood " 

They  struck  her  hand. 

"  You  heap  up  only  malice  on  yourself,  you  unwise 
ones !    It  will  fall  on  you " 

Somebody  seized  her  neck  and  began  to  choke  her. 
There  was  a  rattle  in  her  throat. 

"  You  poor,  sorry  creatures " 


%i 


THE   END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

TT.is  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed  ' 

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